Life's Little Mysteries
by DarkElements10
Summary: [Re-write of Stranger Like Me]. Nothing can get past Dr. Henry Morgan. He notices everything about everyone that passes him by. He never thought that someone else could do the same to him. And when he finds out there's more than meets the eye with the fifteen year old stranger, he wants to help at all costs. That's what his life was about, solving mysteries.
1. Chapter 1

**Life's Little Mysteries**

 **By: Riley**

 **Summary** \- [Re-write of Stranger Like Me]. Nothing can get past Dr. Henry Morgan. He notices everything about everyone that passes him by. He never thought that someone else could do the same to him. And when he finds out there's more than meets the eye with the stranger, he wants to help at all costs.

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 **A/N:** Whew! Sorry for the long wait on this guys, I wanted to be sure I knew where the story would go before I posted but here it is! The first chapter is the same for the most part but some other parts have been added. I hope you still enjoy reading.

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 **Chapter One**

Dr. Henry Morgan was a simple man who had a simple routine. He got up in the morning, had a breakfast of hot tea and a crumpet with butter and cinnamon spread on top. Then he would stop by his antique shop to help Abe pull out the new inventory and put a price on them to be set out.

Antiques weren't things people were normally interested in but they always held a fascinating mystery; where it came from, who had been the most recent owner, and how it connected to history. History was something Henry had always been interested in and would continue to be interested in for years to come. It was a part of him as much as his medical background was.

Once he and Abe had finished setting up the store he would stay for the first hour after opening then walk to work where he was the New York City Medical Examiner, stopping for a cup of coffee in a hole-in-the-wall Mom and Pop shop. Starbucks never caught his fancy. It was overpriced, oversaturated with a marketing campaign that didn't appeal to him. New gimmicks and flashy slogans that were more to appear like they re 'hip' and 'with it' rather than selling their coffee. Abe tried to get him to have a cappuccino from Starbucks but it didn't do much for him. He was perfectly fine with his usual.

On his walk to work Henry watched everyone that came his way and passed him by as well as watching people in front of him. Humans were creatures of habit and while he was the same, he was different in the way he could notice things about people no one else would notice. A woman tucking her hair behind her ear and pushing her glasses up her nose, she was nervous for something. Probably waiting for someone as her eyes continued to dart around from her phone to the sidewalk in front of her. The man standing on the corner, leering at every woman that passed; he was probably looking for a weak target to hook up with. Teenagers that slouched over on their way to school wanting to be anywhere else but locked in rooms to be lectured for hours on end.

Those were the easy ones.

The mysteries of those that took him more than a few minutes to figure out were the ones who gave him pause. Who made him look a little bit longer to see what it was that was wrong. There had been numerous times he managed to accurately deduce his co-workers who hadn't managed to get much sleep and the cause why, able to state those that had a hangover, those who showed early signs of illness. And he was right every single time.

A long history with medicine and people could do that.

The one time he was stumped was later that day. Knuckles deep into the chest of a recently deceased middle aged man when a group of teenagers walked into the examination room led by his associate, Lucas Wahl. He briefly glanced up as Lucas approached the table, his eyes taking in the students and teacher as they came to a stop in front of him.

Right, they were there for a field trip of some sort. He briefly remembered his boss, Lieutenant Joanna Reece, giving him the heads up. He must've been so engrossed in his work that he had forgotten. Never mind, an audience was something he was used to. That short amount of time he spent working as a mentalist of sorts—guessing weight and thoughts to make some money—was put to good use. As much as he enjoyed being by himself he wasn't afraid being in the spotlight at times.

He liked people that much.

"And this is Dr. Henry Morgan," Lucas was saying, motioning to him. "He's our leading medical examiner. Not only is he able to correctly diagnose what has been the cause of death for those that are brought in here, but he can even do it at times without even having to open the body to do so." He leaned towards the students, placing a hand by the side of his mouth. Henry rolled his eyes when Lucas whispered conspiratorially, "And let me tell you that can be very creepy."

"You find that creepy when we have a class filled with high school students coming to visit a medical examiner? Especially when they're the most hormonal creatures on the planet and can find they base their decisions off of emotions rather than thought?" Henry replied with a quirk of an eyebrow and a half smile.

Lucas rolled his head towards his colleague and gave him a warm smile. But the look in his eyes wasn't exactly warm. They darted over towards the teacher and back to Henry in rapid succession. Henry cleared his throat at the silence that stretched, so his joke didn't go over so well. That was just fine, his jokes didn't always strike their mark but they made him chuckle.

Henry's lips twitched into a small smile to silently calm Lucas, before he turned to the teacher, who had opened her mouth to respond. "I assume that this is for a physiology class. And if I'm to assume even further it, specifically, is for an advanced class."

The teacher's eyes widened. "H-how did you know that?" She stammered, clearly impressed with how he could've deducted it just from glancing at the students.

Henry pulled back from the body in front of him, blood sticking to the fingers of his gloves. He nodded over to the student that was standing directly in front of him; had noticed the notebook that she was holding in front of her. "Physiology is one of the few courses that would have students visit a medical examiner." He cleared his throat. "Not only is she ready to take notes, but she's clearly not the only one as there are pens or pencils sticking out of the pockets of all of the students, which indicates they're high achieving students as others would be listening to their music players. Then there's the fact that there are scuffs on the front of some of the shoes that hold a certain smudge of dirt which is reminiscent of being in the subway giving the idea that you've come from out of the city to get here, and there aren't many cases where students at this time of day, would be out of school."

He then smiled a wide, inviting smile and motioned to the body lying on the table in front of him. "Would anyone care to guess what has caused the death to this…specimen?" A specimen indeed. It was easier for him to handle working on these cases when he didn't put the body to a soul that had once been living.

"Don't feel bad if you can't get it right," Lucas said to the students. He tilted his head toward Henry, giving a small smile. "He's the only one I know that can do it within a few seconds."

He was also the only one who could effectively wow and spook Lucas with that talent. Nevertheless, Henry took a step back and allowed the students to crowd around and examine the body. Despite them all wearing gloves, none of the students were brave enough to directly touch the body.

 _I suppose they wouldn't be,_ Henry through as he watched them, hands clasped together behind his back. _Death is a very scary thing and if you're not around it every day it can be very unsettling._

A few guesses came left and right from a heart attack, to an allergy, to head trauma. It wasn't until the last boy that stood at the end spoke up that Henry took notice. He looked like a normal fifteen year old boy, shaggy black hair and pensive dark blue eyes. And much like other teens he had come across he was wearing a baggy blue sweatshirt—that appeared to be a little dirty—and black jeans.

He had been silent, eyes moving over the body, listening to his classmates before he confidently stated, "This man died from a drug overdose," he said.

Henry blinked and looked at him for a long moment. Amazing. The boy was right. What was more, he was very confident about his guess, not wavering at all.

"And what brought you to that conclusion?" Henry asked.

As the boy brought in a deep breath through his nose, he pressed his lips together and dimples appeared in his cheeks. "The skin is flushed a light pink which shows the potential of a heightened temperature if not an increase of blood pressure. The way his eyes don't particularly seem to be focused, with the eyebrows slightly raised, shows that sleepiness or confusion set in when he was overdosing. Despite the fact that the temperature of the body had obviously risen, again, according to the flushness of the skin, there are no overt signs of sweat, which can also come during an overdose. From the way his hand is at his side, appearing to have been forced down after rigor mortis set in, he had chest pain and if I'm correct in assuming, if you open his mouth and take a swab you may find some vomit, yeah?"

Henry continued to stare at the boy; listening to the boy s he spoke. There was something about him, about the way he was speaking and sounding as if he was trying to downplay himself, but knew what he was talking about. He had only ever seen it happen to one person before and that was from himself. Being immortal, having seen so much over his years of life, he had become so perceptive it was like second nature. A quick glance at someone and he could tell what kind of personality they had and more than likely figure out what their plans for that day were.

For example, looking at the teacher, he could tell that she was a middle-aged woman who was looking for a date. The makeup carefully placed on her face only had a few smudges but she otherwise, cared a lot about her appearance. He could see the wrinkles that were starting to form under her foundation. There were bags under her eyes that indicated she had many late nights working on her schoolwork and the way she would look at her students every now and then with a smile proved she cared a lot about how she was helping them with their schooling as they continued on with life.

Still, it wasn't something so easy for other people to pick up on.

There were a lot of things he got out of her, but this boy…he was different.

"There are no track marks though," Lucas pointed out.

The boy shrugged. "Check the webs of the fingers and toes, more often than not drug users inject there as it's harder to detect. Not only that, but check the side of the foot, where there are numerous veins. I heard that it was a new spot for drug users as well."

Eyes trained on the boy, Henry slowly walked around the examining table, removing the gloves that were on his hands. "You, sir, made a remarkable guess."

"No, he's just perceptive," The teacher said. "He's always been able to do things like that."

"No, I'm just smart," the boy replied with a slight smirk.

"You're not modest either," Lucas commented. The boy shrugged and flicked his hair out of his face but didn't bother to deny the accusation.

"That's Sydney," the teacher continued. "He's a remarkable talent with his perceptiveness, gets top marks on all of his papers and tests. He was really excited to be able to come here today, to meet you, actually."

Those words surprised Henry for a moment before he mentally panicked. How much did this kid know about him? Was he ware of his immortality as well? Was he aware that the moment he died his body would disappear and he would appear in the nearest body of water completely naked? And if so, how was that possible if Abram was the only one that knew it? And no one else had managed to come close to figuring out what made the doctor so mysterious.

Instead of speaking all of those thoughts, he decided to go with what would make him sound less suspicious. It was a ridiculous notion, really. How would a fifteen year old know about his immortality within a few seconds of being around him when no one else did?

 _Don't panic yet Henry. This might purely be a conincedence._

"Is that so?" Henry asked.

"I've heard loads about what you've managed to accomplish while here," Sydney said. "I mean, not only are you able to deduce a death just from a few seconds of probing, but you've assisted many police cases over the past couple of years."

Slowly smiling, Henry nodded. He and Lucas went through the rest of what was to be done as a medical examiner as well as showed the students around the facility before it was time for them to leave. As the students trooped by them, Henry caught Sydney's attention.

"You're not an American," he said to the boy. Sydney turned and looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Not only is it that you appear to be more tanned than the other students, proving that you live closer to the equator, but your facial features are slightly different than that of an American. There is a slight hint of Asian in your features but it seems to be overshadowed by an Australian lineage. And when you speak, there is an American accent that comes out; however your pronunciations of the letters 'h' and 'o' are slightly different, reminiscent of one that is Australian."

Now Sydney turned to face him completely.

"And if that were the case, it makes me wonder what it is that you're doing in New York and how do you know so much about me," The British doctor continued.

"I already said, I'm really smart," Sydney said, this time he dropped his American accent and replaced it with an Australian one, confirming Henry's deductions. "In fact, I'm actually a part of Mensa. And, like I've also stated, I know a lot about you because I enjoy seeing how well you deduct things."

"But considering you had slight difficulty to hide the 'h' and 'o' in your words it proves that you haven't been using an American accent for long, meaning that you're purposefully hiding your Australian accent and I can't help but wonder why."

"I just moved here. My dad got a new job. I want to fit in."

Henry chuckled. "I assure you that the foreign accent has a tendency to yield more attention and friendship than another American one." He hadn't dated much but even he noticed when women were interested in him due to his own accent.

Sydney's eyebrows rose and he turned to catch up with his class, hands still in the front pocket of his sweatshirt as they always had been. Henry watched him leave, crossing his arms over his chest. He glanced back at the cadaver that sat resting on the table, eyes narrowing for a moment. He was sure the boy wasn't one that could die and come back to life, if he had, he wouldn't be so young.

Still, there was something about the boy that was intriguing.

Not many people were as perceptive as he was and that only came from years of dying and coming back to life, so much so that it was starting to get old.

And knowing there was someone out there that understood a little bit about what he was going through comforted him a little bit.

But it also made him even more curious.

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 **A/N:** So please leave a review and let me know about the pacing, the characters, anything else you'd like to point out! Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**02**

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The next time Henry saw Sydney was he spotted the young teen when he was spending some time to himself. There was nothing more beautiful to him than the New York streets, watching the hustle and bustle of everyone, wondering and guessing where it was they were going to go or what they were out for.

He hadn't been wrong yet but het mysteries of people were still something he managed to become fascinated by as the days passed. Sure, he was a simple man who also greatly enjoyed simpler times but he was slowly starting to grow accustomed to his life in New York. It had been long enough that he was starting to feel like a 'true' New Yorker despite having watched the city change before his eyes by the day.

He took a deep breath, lamenting the changes that had gone on around him. So much change and still he continued to feel alone even at the worst of times. There weren't many moments Henry had time to himself but when he did he found himself continuing to be surrounded by people. Watching them, studying them. People had always been a part of his life, even within his past a doctor. His life felt empty when he wasn't helping people in some way. Being a medical examiner with the city of New York wasn't what he wanted to do with his life but at least he was still helping people; giving families a sense of peace and some answers when needed.

Of course that wasn't his complete life's work. Not when he was immortal. There was so much he needed to find out about his ability to continue to live life time and time again. Why he was given the ability to continue to live life no matter how gruesome of a death he faced. Despite the nuance it continued to be, it enhanced his abilities to understand people, to give him the upper hand at his job. He found it fascinating; and of the utmost importance, it kept him from feeling so alone.

By that token immortality, in theory, was a great idea. The ability to see the world around you change, not worrying about being able to die, being able to do whatever it was you wanted in life as you had nothing but time on your hands. All of that time to get even the wildest dreams completed, to live a new life over and over and reinvent themselves…but living it was a completely different thing. Not many thought of the implications of being able to live as long as possible. People around you continued to leave by their own volition as well as passing away.

How do you tell your parents, your wife, and your son that you can't die and as they age around you; that you'd still be thirty-five years old? It will continue to be that way until they're long gone and you're alone. And even being alone in a sea of faces that continued to move towards their own eventual demise with bright smiles on their faces.

What was the worst part?

Being alone in life or being alone in death?

 _Try not to think of that Henry,_ he willed himself. _Those thoughts can be as debilitating as even the worst of the worst cold._ It was strange; he hadn't thought of his impending doom in a long time. Nothing more than the cure he was trying to figure out. Nothing more than the cases he had to work on day after day. He tried not to bring his own life into his thoughts too much, knowing how easily depressive it made him. Knowing how many people there were that he had lost and would continue to lose.

The nagging thought anyone he would get close to would leave him continued to bring that fresh wave of pain.

His theory was tested once more when crossing the street. A New York cab—one of the most garish parts of the city in his opinion—screeched onto the sidewalk. Henry leapt back a few paces—one of his saving graces of being alive so long was that his reflexes got better over time, recognizing the telltale signs of danger—and watched as the taxi came to a halt in front of him, the two right ties on the curb.

The driver's side door opened and the taxi driver quickly climbed out, face ashen, eyes wide with terror. "Are you alright?" He asked Henry. Henry merely nodded as the cab driver continued to assess the danger he had just been in and brought upon others. "That asshole cut me off, I didn't have time to stop!" He placed a hand on Henry's shoulder and looked him up and down. "You're the luckiest son of a bitch, I've ever seen."

Henry gave a small smile. Luck wasn't something he would've equated to his life. Instead of responding Henry gave the man a smile and an even more awkward pat on the shoulder before backing away from the taxi driver's grasp. He tilted his head forward in a nod then started down the street once more.

 _If only he knew,_ Henry thought. His smile faded as he continued walking once more. He ambled past the newspaper stands, the fancy stores and shops, the restaurants with clinking knives and forks and calm, quiet laughter and conversation, the patrons ambling in and out of shops. All on the way to his favorite place in New York, Central Park. Nothing could touch the beauty of nature and the culture that was brought into it by those wanting to take advantage of the weather and great outdoors.

Henry started to pass by a hot dog stand when he recognized the Australian accented voice; the one which was much out of place in New York.

"Thanks mate," the fifteen year old said as he backed away from the stand, holding up the food in a napkin. "Hoo roo." He turned and took a bite out of it, chewing for a second, before looking up and noticing Henry standing across from him. Sydney stopped in his tracks and his eyebrows rose for a moment as his eye lit up. Then he gave a peculiar smile before saying, "I thought I'd run into you."

At that remark Henry's eyebrows rose. A peculiar feeling washed over him and it took a second for him to realize it was of surprise. He hadn't been honestly and truly surprised in a long time. There were only a few things that managed to surprise him as long as he had been alive; presidential elections, inventions, new technology. (He still refused to use a computer as often as everyone around him did, he didn't really see the point knowing as much as he did). It must've been his cynicism; his growing bitterness at life while Abigail had passed ages ago that had done it to him.

And yet, he found the familiar sensation rising through his body as Sydney continued to look at him. Then it was replaced by anxiety. Maybe he knew something more than he was letting on? How careful had Henry been the last couple of days in letting people know about his secret. It couldn't have been that easy to figure out, but Sydney's teacher did say he was part of one of the biggest intellectual groups in the world.

"I-I'm sorry, how did you know I'd be here?" Henry asked.

Sydney's right eyebrow rocked upwards as he pressed his lips together. "I'm not staling you if that's what you're afraid of," he remarked.

Henry paused. "I _wasn't_ thinking that. But now I'm curious to know if that's the answer."

"Then I'd be a very bad stalker if I admitted it, wouldn't I?"

"Not unless you planned on attacking me for some reason. _Do_ you plan on attacking me?"

"Not today." Sydney's dimple appeared in his cheek as his eyes lit up. "Sorry to disappoint you, mate. As it is, anyone could be stalking you and you wouldn't know it, yeah? You walk this path nearly every weekend."

Now Henry was taken aback. His eyes searched Sydney's for a long moment. "So you _have_ been watching me."

"Observing is the better statement," Sydney quickly corrected him. He suddenly looked shy, maybe taken aback at the way the conversation was going. Judging by the way his shoulders rounded Henry guessed he felt he had said too much. "And it's not that I've been observing _you_ , really, but that you stick out like a sore thumb. Compared to everyone else, anyway."

Henry slightly turned his head away, pretending to look around the park as he watched Sydney out of the corner of his eye. Maybe he did have a point. Everyone around him appeared to be dressed in comfortable, workout clothes in bright colors while he was dressed in one of his best suits and overcoats. So maybe he did stick out a little bit more than he anticipated. He wasn't much for fashion and liked what he liked. He had been told on many dates that his sense of style was refreshing and he took it as a complement. Maybe it wasn't a complement at all rather than a simple observation.

Henry continued to gaze at the young boy. Sydney appeared just like any teenager at the time; long shaggy hair, baggy sweatshirt over tight jeans, the latest shoes, and an arrogant disposition that seemed to envelop him like an egg. He had come across many teenagers that had the same sort of attitude; he didn't remember ever having the same arrogant attitude that many teens today seemed to have.

"How do I appear then?" Henry finally asked.

Sydney blinked once then started to walk again, Henry falling in step along with him. Sydney took a couple more bites of his hot dog before speaking through his full mouth to say, "Well, you're not particularly dressed like those around you; you're more old-fashioned. You're never with anyone, unless it's with that older man that sometimes comes along." He licked mustard off his thumb. "Your father?"

Henry braved a half smile.

Yes, his father.

Would anyone believe that the ma that was old enough to be his father was, in fact, his son? He didn't think it would be so hard to decipher, they called each other by their first names and Henry did, in fact, treat the man like a son. Looking out for him, especially as he continued to move through his older age. Though in his experience he knew that was likened to the fact that older adults were treated like children. Humans moved in cycles in that way, protected, made to look after themselves, then protected once more.

"You enjoy looking at the architecture of the buildings around here which not many people take the time to stop and look at," Sydney continued. He finally finished his snack and wiped off his hands before shoving them into his pockets, elongating his stride to a casual gait. "Plus you don't ever stop to talk to anyone. You just walk around, lost in your own thoughts." Sydney looked at Henry innocently then shrugged. Henry could've sworn there was a smug smile on his face. "But then again, that's just a theory, yeah?"

"Some theory," Henry agreed.

He sucked in a deep breath through his nose, letting it out in a long condensed cloud in front of him. It would be winter soon, one of the better seasons for the city. It brought a 'new beginning' kind of feel to those around them.

"Though there are many parts you got right. I do enjoy looking at the architecture," he admitted. "It gives a lot of history and depth to the city around us. Most wouldn't entertain the thought, they're more inclined to…" trailing off, he looked around his shoulder, noticing a older teenage boy with his head tilted down towards his phone, walked right into a pole, backed up, and continued on his way. "Be engrossed in their pieces of technology."

"Spoken like a true historian, mate."

"It's a hobby," Henry said vaguely. "Though it is something that many people are becoming more in tune to. Modern architecture is becoming more mainstream as the days go on. It's very interesting to see what influences the architects." Henry and Sydney turned the bend and continued down the sidewalk. "Pardon my intrusive question, but if you're Australian, what are you doing out here in New York? Other than your schooling, though I can't help but notice that you appear to be bored with it."

"Who said I was bored?" Sydney flung out his arm and lobbed his balled up napkin into a trashcan. A satisfied grin came to his face that seemed to face within seconds. Henry noticed the sudden change and was surprised to see the expression change once more to a neutral one.

Almost as if he had practiced them.

Henry nodded, pursing his lips. "Those that are interested in their school work don't usually look at everything _but_ the subject they're supposed to be studying. You came to my work with your class to get an idea of what a medical examiner does, but apart from the body, you were too busy looking to see what everyone else was doing. I don't think your eyes stopped moving around. That's not to mention you said you were interested in some of the work I've been doing, not _our_ work in general."

"Is it a problem that I find my school work to be boring?" Sydney shot back, a hard edge coming to his tone. "I mean, I'd figure a man with your smarts would agree that there are menial duties that come along with being in school." His shoulders rounded forwards once more, his footsteps falling heavily to the pavement, almost as if he were stomping imaginary bugs. Henry immediately noticed the tension shift around them. "My brothers and sisters won't be particularly happy to hear it, but they've already done so much for me."

Sydney stopped short, sucking his lips into his mouth. His eyes shifted to the side before lowering to the ground.

Henry noticed it. He recognized that as quickly as he recognized someone trying to lie. But that only made him curious. What would a fifteen year old Australian boy—who clearly had some family somewhere—be trying to hide? Not only was the boy very smart, but he was just as secretive as Henry was, maybe more. The tell was the way the boy had moved his eyes to the side, in particular, to the left, almost subtly.

Henry almost missed the movement, but he noticed it.

However, that thought didn't trouble him. He was keeping his own secret and to each his own. He couldn't help but be a little intrigued and the thought comforted him a little.

"I have to go," Sydney said suddenly. They had come up to a crosswalk with Central Park in front of them. The boy pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "I've got homework and stuff to do and you wouldn't want me to sticking around to bother you."

"It's not a bother at all."

Sydney's warm smile was so sudden that Henry couldn't help but smile back. Much like he had been praised for good grades or something of similar value. "If you say so, mate. Hoo roo." Sydney turned on his heel and walked away.

Henry watched him go before until he disappeared around a street corner. As he continued to amble around Central Park he thought of what Sydney had said to him. How he stuck out, how he dressed differently, how he carried himself. He _was_ an old-fashioned man, being alive for over two hundred years could do that.

And despite the knowledge that he would never really, truly, fit in with those that came and went around him, it was nice to know he still had someone he was slowly considering a friend.

A kindered spirit if you will.

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 **A/N:** So please leave a review and let me know about the pacing, the characters, anything else you'd like to point out! Thanks!


	3. Chapter 3

**.:3:.**

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The third time Henry ran into Sydney, he was sure something was going on with the teenage boy. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, just a feeling. And as long as he had been alive his 'feelings' hardly turned out to be wrong. (Except for the few times he was, humiliatingly, mistaken to be flirting with a woman and it either resulted in him being kicked between the legs or stuck in a date he was desperate to get out of).

But when Henry Morgan made up his mind, it was made up. He thought there was something going on with Sydney and he was going to do something about it. Not like he had a fool proof plan or anything, and apart from knowing his school name he wasn't quite sure where to find the boy. But as fate would have it, Sydney found him.

Henry and Abe had been playing chess in their store, mulling over the latest police case that Henry had assisted with. Abe, of course, was trying to stir something between Henry and Detective Jo Martinez and as per usual, Henry was avoiding the statements with snide remarks, soft smiles, and rolls of his eyes. It wasn't that he hadn't noticed that Jo was attractive, many men thought so. (As far as he could see from the quick looks they shot her way when walking down the street). But it wasn't something he dwelled so much on. There was too much else going on in his life. But he did find it sweet that Abe cared so much about his own happiness.

"I told you before, Abe, I'm content not spending my life with anyone," Henry said, his eyes studying the chess board. The game was starting to become tougher and tougher as the two played. Despite Henry's years of playing Abe was starting to catch up in terms of the tricks and deceives to keep him from getting an easy win. Henry was at a stalemate as he tried to find a way to keep his adoptive son form finding the perfect placement for the win.

Henry's smile waned.

Son.

It was so normal to him to say that. He _was_ the one who had adopted Abe and raised him alongside Abigail. However, Abe was older and getting older. Clearly he would be the first to pass between him and Henry, unless Henry found the source of his immortality. Every now and then he wondered what it really was that kept him alive and how that also kept him from opening up to people. Opening himself up fully so that they understood his unique mannerisms and views on life. In a realistic sense he knew things would turn out badly once people found out he was immortal. It had happened well enough, and he didn't plan on allowing himself to be poked and prodded and studied for science.

Sure the idea that telling some people he couldn't die, that he was immortal was tempting. _Very_ tempting. The secret was slowly killing him, seeing time change, technology change, and people change day after day was more daunting than anyone could ever imagine. But Henry was more afraid of the overwhelmingly possible outcome. He was already a bit of an outcast, a loner…he didn't want to be shunned even more—and besides, he rather liked his privacy.

Henry made his move and leaned back in his seat. Images of Abigail and Jo filled his head making him smile a little.

But to be able to share his life with someone else…in a romantic way, that was a harder thing to realize would never come to fruition. He didn't believe women would be perceptive to the idea that they would grow old while he continued to be young. Abigail hadn't cared even as she got into her old age and the two couldn't be as romantic in public, she still loved him as much as she had when they first met. _No,_ Henry reminded himself. _That wasn't always true._ The looks was enough so that she would flush and move away from Henry. That eventually drove her away…

But things always had to end and he couldn't stand the thought of being hurt as badly as he had when she passed.

No.

He was fine on his own.

"I'm just saying that you need a woman that's willing to put you in your place every now and then," Abe said. He frowned when Henry moved his chess piece forward, placing him in check. "You have to admit that you have a tendency to get in your own way a lot. As well as _getting_ your own way." Abe pointed towards the man that was his adoptive father but appeared he could be his son. Every now and then Abe felt the differences in ages between the two was much larger and complicated than it should have been—Henry was older than him but Abe _looked_ older and was treated as such; a father and a son all the same. It was exhausting at times but needed for some sense of normalcy.

And no matter the age, it was normal for people to care about their family members when their love lives weren't going the way they should. "Immortality be damned, she's good for you."

"I only have a professional relationship with Ms. Martinez and I intend to keep it that way," Henry replied. He leaned back in his seat and paused a moment before he grabbed the warm coffee mug that sat before him. "As it is, she appears annoyed by me each time I'm around her."

"Gee, I can't imagine why." Abe smirked.

Henry smirked back. "Abe, is that sarcasm I detect?"

"You bet your ass it is." Abe ignored the amused glance Henry sent his way. Then it shifted to one of slight annoyance, not particularly enjoying when anyone cursed around him. "You may be immortal, but she's right. You can't keep running around and acting like you can't seriously get hurt. Your curiosity is really what's going to be the death of you."

"I hope so."

Henry took a long sip of his mug and waited for Abe to make that fatal move he anticipated then moved his Rook forward. "Check mate." Abe stared at the board in disbelief and Henry stood up, pushing back his chair with his thighs. He brushed off the front of his blouse, removing imaginary specks of dust. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be downstairs using my curiosity to speed up my impending doom."

Abe gave a humorless laugh behind him as Henry walked over towards the trap door in the middle of the floor.

Henry then quickly stopped, hearing the door to the antique shop open. Straightening, trying to pass off inspecting the floor, Henry whirled around and watched as Sydney slowly made his way inside. His dark blue eyes shifted back and forth as he looked around the antique shop, not landing on any piece for longer than a few seconds.

Then Sydney's eyes landed on Henry and he smiled, gaining confidence as he sauntered inside. He pulled white earbuds from his ears, allowing the sound of rock music to blast through the air. "Hey."

"Hello." Henry blinked in confusion, turning to Abe, who looked at the young teenager with a raised eyebrow. It wasn't normal for teenagers to want to come into antique shops. Over the years he had seen enough clientele come in to know it to be true. Every now and then one came in with their parents, practically dragged the whole way.

"What brings you by here?" Henry then paused, his eyes narrowing. "As a matter of fact, how did you know I worked here?"

"A guess," Sydney replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I reckon, an old-fashioned guy like you, where else would you work?" Abe stifled his laughter. Henry turned and glared at him but Abe waved a hand his way, continuing to laugh. "I've walked by a few times…I've seen you in here." He shrugged, eyes shifting. "Is this a bad time?"

"I don't know a lot of teenagers that were interested in antiques," Abe commented. "But I'm sure we can find something that you like." He looked the boy up and down. "Or that you can afford." He cleared his throat. "You are aware that these items can yield a hefty price tag."

Sydney smirked. "I can afford it," he said.

"Did you strike oil overnight?"

Once again, Sydney's eyes shifted and he merely shrugged in reply. Henry walked back over to the table that held the chess table and sat down, watching as Abe lead Sydney around the shop, pointing out new furniture, the history of each piece, bringing Sydney into conversation over each one.

Henry's eyebrows rose. So this kid was good at school, very smart, perceptive and was into antiques? There was something off about it. Not that it wasn't possible. But having lived for more than two-hundred years, Henry had a good look at teenagers and how they acted as the years went on. Teenagers his age were supposed to be sucking down soda and energy drinks while they pulled all-nighters on their video games, hitting on girls and hanging out with their friends. Why would he want to, consistently, hang around Henry when he probably had better things to do.

 _Then again, you never did get an answer as to why he's here in New York,_ Henry reminded himself. There were many reasons for it happening, one of his parents being an American, having moved due to a job. He had mentioned brothers and sisters once but didn't say anything about his family otherwise. And he sure was secretive, more than other teenagers were. When they got the chance they usually talked as much as they could, one-upping their friends the best they could while trying not to give into peer pressure. Or in other cases, purposefully giving into peer pressure so that they would be deemed as 'cool' in their peer's eyes.

But Sydney didn't seem like that kind of teenager to him. He might've had a girlfriend, he might've had friends. But the few times he had seen him he was alone. He didn't have the air around him like he was a loner or searching for someone. His aura was…different.

"So what is it that tickles your fancy?" Abe asked. He spread his arms wide, to showcase the inventory of the shop. Sydney took a quick look around once more before his eyes landed on an object directly on the shelf beside him.

"I really like this mirror, actually," Sydney said. He reached out and grabbed onto a handheld mirror with gold plating, jewel studs, and butterflies painted on the side. "My Mum had one just like it, but my brothers and I accidentally broke it ages ago."

Henry started, noticing how the boy's eyes had lowered. It wasn't the same as when he was trying to avoid a question, no this was different. Something was painful for the boy. It was in his body language; suddenly turning in on himself, the lowered eyes, the slight pout. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard; maybe trying to hide his sadness? Henry wasn't sure what emotion it was that quickly shot through the young boy's eyes. Maybe something that had happened recently?

No, if that were the case he wouldn't be able to continuously put on such a normal demeanor, to read Henry as well as he could.

"Anyway, I'd like to buy it, mate," Sydney continued, snapping out of his trance. He handed the mirror back over to Abe, reaching into his back pocket and producing a small, black card. "How much?"

"About a thousand dollars," Abe replied.

Henry looked over at Sydney once more, expecting his eyes to grow wide with surprise, shock, or worry, but instead he retained his calm demeanor and handed Abe the black card so he could go to the register. Sydney started to head over towards Henry and spotted the old fashioned phone that rested on the front counter. "Wow, you blokes are _really_ going for the antique angle, yeah?"

"We have to keep up with idea of the store, right?" Henry asked, raising his mug in greeting.

"Sure, but you'd seriously increase your revenue if you created and app that would show people your inventory as well as highlighting the places that the pieces specifically come from," Sydney said. He sat down across the table from Henry. "Not including the fact there's a highly probably chance that you'd be able to crate connections with other vendors or antique shows in the area to acquire even more inventory." He blew his hair out his face then quickly arranged it so that it fell back in front of his eyes. "You'd get in touch with new clientele around the world, as well."

Henry gave a wry smile. Technology, although he appreciated the mass change in medicine and science, had never been something he was particularly interested in. There were too many things to learn how to do. He didn't even have an e-mail address, something Detective Martinez got onto his case about as well as not having a cell phone. He had a cell phone _now_ and it took him and Abe ages to figure out how to configure it. Then there were those that watched him with amused smiles as he slowly punched out the keys on a computer keyboard and the keyboard of his cell phone.

The sooner he got on the internet—was that what they were still calling it?—the sooner someone could look him up and things would get messy for him.

Messier than it already was, anyway.

Just that morning he found himself crossing the street at the worst opportune time and had his brain splattered all over the pavement, before having popped up in the Hudson River and being arrested. Again. When Abe arrived at the police station to drive him back home, he had opened the passenger door to his car and looked at the young man remarking, "If this wasn't so funny, I would be tired of this by now."

To which Henry only responded with a half smile.

He was sure there was going to be some sort of a news bulletin about his accident. Wondering if there was any information on the man that had been hit and disappeared. It happened once before and Henry kept low, waiting for it to blow over before making another appearance. But when it died down in the city, it lived on in infamy on the internet. He was sure there was some sort of a website or a message blog—or whatever they called it—out there for everything he had done.

"Me and technology don't mix very well, I'm afraid," Henry said to him.

"Technology and _I,"_ Sydney quickly corrected him. Dimples appeared in his cheeks as he smiled apologetically.

Henry regarded him curiously. "Has anyone ever told you—"

"That I can be annoying? A smart ass? Arrogant?" Sydney guessed. "Oh, all the time. My brothers and sisters are the ones that say it mostly. And my girlfriend"

 _So he does have a girlfriend, _Henry thought. His eyebrows lifted in slight surprise. Then he focused in on the other thing the teen had said. _His brothers and sisters must be important figures in his life as well._ Henry slowly worked at him. "I was going to say, very sure of yourself, but that works," Henry said. He looked up as Abe walked back from the cash register with the hand held mirror carefully wrapped and placed in a bag. "You have brothers and sisters huh?"

"Yep. It's Julius, then my sisters Riley and Rhuben, who are twins, then Patrick and Noah, they're twins, too, then me," he explained.

"Wow, that's a pretty big family."

Sydney's cheek twitched. His smile faded. His eyes became dull. "Yeah, there's never a dull moment."

"I'm sure Henry could say the same," Abe remarked, causing Henry to glare at him once more. He chuckled and motioned behind Henry as the door to the antique shop opened once more, a ringing bell capturing their attention. "Good Morning, Detective Martinez. Don't tell me that someone started off the morning with a bang already?"

Detective Martinez gave what appeared to be an amused smile, though it didn't particularly reach her eyes from what Henry noticed. In fact, the way she had her arms crossed, eyes slightly narrowed, her head having jerked at the sound of the bell ringing overhead showed she either had a hangover or was getting over a cold with a splitting headache. He would bank on a hangover; considering she had put on more makeup than usual to try and off set her bloodshot eyes and her lips trembled as if she were experiencing and trying to hold off a wave of nausea.

Either the case they had been working on before—where a little kid had suddenly passed, where it turned out that her mother was poisoning her food—had taken its toll on her or else she had been reminded of her late husband and couldn't shake the darkness that surrounded her. It seemed to follow her like a fog, almost like a dark cloud threatening to rain on her every second of every day no matter how much of a sunny disposition she tried to put on.

Tried, being the operative word.

"You don't have to worry about that," Detective Martinez replied with a slight sigh. "But there is a new case that I need Henry's help with." She turned to the immortal man, who regarded her with interest. "We've found a body at the post office, there are no outward signs of a struggle or anything that would've caused his death. The man was fairly young, about your age, and yet his family seems to think he was murdered."

Henry nodded slowly. His mind already starting to work over the possible reasons as to why he would have passed if it weren't for murder. And the reasons he _did_ if he was. His was broken out of his thoughts as Detective Martinez cleared her throat. She pointedly put her hands on her hips as she stared right into Henry's eyes.

"But _please,_ this time when I say for you not to get into anything, please don't get into anything. Just do your own job and leave the rest to us."

 _Easier said than done,_ Henry thought. He was a doctor, a medical examiner. He always needed to know the truth of everything that came his way. It was hard to stand back and act like nothing was happening when it was his calling to go above and beyond his work for justice.

"I'll be right there," Henry replied, placing his mug on the table. It didn't look like he was going to be getting a lot of his research done that day. Standing up, he motioned over to Sydney, who suddenly appeared to shrink back in his chair. That had to be a strange exchange to watch, he noted. But Sydney's didn't seem so concerned about that rather than the attention suddenly turned on him. Interestingly enough, Henry noticed that Sydney wouldn't look at Detective Martinez. "This is Sydney. I've made his acquaintance a couple days ago."

"Is there any particular reason why you treat Dr. Morgan like he's your son?" Sydney bluntly asked Detective Martinez. Still, he wouldn't look at her. "Like you're annoyed by him?"

Jo blinked in surprise as Henry stifled a smile. "I—uh—" Closing her eyes, she gently shook her head. "I don't treat him like he's my son."

"You just told him not to get into anything, yeah?" Sydney's eyes narrowed. "Much like a mother would to a child that's always getting in the way of something." He tilted his head to the side, eyes still narrowed, still looking away from her. "It's either that or you're slightly irritated by him because he's managed to solve some of the more…inexplicable cases that have gained media attention as of late."

Jo looked at everyone in the room, her eyes widening slightly. When her gaze landed on Henry he smiled. "Oh my God, there're two of you," she remarked. "You're not related to him are you?"

"No." Sydney chuckled. He sat up straight and finally looked at her. "By the way, I'd suggest black eyeliner, as opposed to the brown that you're using, to offset the redness of your eyes."

"Thanks for the tip." Jo turned back to Henry and tapped at the face of her watch. "We have to get going, Henry." Then she reached up and mimed pulling out a stubborn eyelash, rubbing at her eye.

"Let me just grab my coat." Henry picked it up off the back of his chair and shrugged into it. "Sydney, do you need a ride anywhere?"

"No! That's okay!" The teenage boy paled and quickly jumped off of his seat. He grabbed onto the bag that had been left for him and hurried towards the front door. "Thanks for the mirror! Hoo roo!" Once he was out the door, he tucked the mirror into the pocket of his sweatshirt and took off down the street at a high speed.

The three adults watched him race by the window, disappearing from site.

Frowning, Henry followed Jo out of the shop and looked down the street in the direction that Sydney had run off. But couldn't see him through the crowds the covered the street. He must've been moving pretty fast. With a wave of her hand, Jo motioned for Henry to follow her down the street, in the opposite direction towards her car.

"You know Henry, you really surprise me," She commented. "You have a…interesting taste in friends. First a man that's old enough to be your father and now a teenage boy? Suffice to say you're not like any other person I've met."

"Neither is Sydney, considering the fact he's being abused," Henry commented. It was a strange statement to make if it wasn't true. All of the signs lined up so quickly, so easily, that Henry was mildly annoyed he hadn't figured it out the very first day he had met Sydney.

The statement made Jo stop on a dime. Her lips pressed together, her jaw sharpening as she turned towards him. "That's a serious allegation, Henry," she said in a slow drawl. "Not something to make a joke of."

"By now I'd hope that you would take everything I'd say seriously," Henry commented. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Didn't you notice the way he visibly paled when you came into the store, let alone spoke with him? That shows he has had some interactions with the police that he isn't willing to have again. Or authority figures in general. Teachers…parents…I didn't think of abuse at first, but then there was the specific way he would keep his eyes away from me or Abe, also keeping his hair in his face. It wasn't until he blew his hair out of the way, a normal movement of a teenage boy with shaggy hair that I noticed the bruise." Henry reached up and tapped directly on his orbital bone. "Right here. And his interesting way of speaking to someone; in a normal, arrogant way teenagers do, and then seeing that things don't work out well, that he offends someone, he immediately shuts down into a mumble, turning his eyes away from you."

"OK." Detective Martinez looked directly at him. "If that's the case, who would you say is the one abusing him?"

Henry smiled. It wasn't a humor filled smile. But a smile nevertheless.

"That's the tricky part as physical abuse is normally at the hands of the parents. I would suspect them if it weren't for the fact that Sydney reacted very sensitively towards the mention of his mother, showing that he really did care of her. I use 'did' as the operative word because of an earlier conversation that he and Abe had while he was buying the antique mirror. I believe that either something happened to his parents or he's just not living with them anymore. Or not living with his mother. That he is currently living with someone who may be or had been abusing him. The mention of his brothers and sisters shows that's really close to them as well. I believe that he's been separated from them, here in New York while they may still be in Australia or else he'd be speaking of them in the present tense, in a more lively manner. But the question is, why?"

"Alright. I'll take a look into it after we figure out what happened to his postal worker."

"I'm highly inclined to say that a very nasty paper cut is out of the question."

"Funny."

* * *

 **A/N:** More expansions. I promise things are going to become more different from the last story as more expansions go on. I hope you guys still enjoy it though.

Cheers,

 **-Riles**


	4. Chapter 4

**.:4:.**

* * *

Lucas watched Henry pace in front of him. Henry's long strides took him across the floor in a few short seconds before he'd whip around and start pacing once more. If he were being honest, Lucas had never seen him so, well, so disheveled. And it wasn't anything I his actual appearance that had him disheveled; he looked as put together as usual. It was the expression on his face. A frown that could've been carved in granite that Lucas had only seen once; on his first day in the office when he hadn't become used to Henry's practices.

It wasn't like Lucas had purposefully spilled his coffee all over Henrys' work cases. It was an accident. He was nerves, meeting one of the best and brightest minds in New York—as he had been told numerous times through his interviews—and wanted to make a good impression by bringing the beverage for his new boss. How was he supposed to know that the barista at his local coffee shop hadn't put the top on the cup correctly?

And how was he to know Henry would've been able to keep the scalding beverage from giving him second degree burns in only a few seconds. It seemed to be a hidden talent, how quickly Henry could assess medical inquiries. It happened before Lucas had even known what was going on. He'd grown to understand Henry and his odd ways over the years, probably more than Henry thought Lucas knew. To see the man with his lips pursed tight and arms folded across his chest as if to block himself off from any danger that could be coming his way was a strange sight.

Especially considering what was making him stress was a case they didn't always come across.

"Uh, I thought we worked with dead bodies, not live ones," Lucas pointed. He watched Henry with his eyes, noting he walked even faster as he took another lap around the room. Lucas held up his hands defensively when Henry shot him a look, pausing mid-stride, before continuing his gait as if nothing had happened. "What is it about this that's gotten you so riled up?"

Henry sighed, slowing himself once more. Raising his hands, he ran them over his face before pressing them to his hips. It was as if he wasn't hearing a word Lucas was saying, but was still very conscious of the young man at the same time. A half a mind away..

"What is it with you and kids anyway?" Lucas continued. "They're, like, the only ones you actually talk to." He pressed a hand against his chest. "I mean, you rarely divulge any sort of information of your life to me and yet kids crack you open like a walnut." He waited for Henry to tell him he was wrong, but knew it wasn't coming. A thought struck him, suddenly. No. It couldn't be. Could it? Lucas watched Henry closely.

Henry wasn't old by any means but he wasn't so young either. The wrinkles and fine lines in his face proved it. Some of those lines were made by smiles, Lucas had managed to make him smile and laugh a few times when his boss wasn't stressed. And he cherished each of those moments since it was almost a rare event. Henry's hair was starting to gray and almost every day Lucas noted that the weight of the world seemed to drag him down a little bit more.

He'd seen it a few times before and it was from his own parents. So that only meant one thing. Lucas took a breath and asked, "Do you have any kids, by any chance?"

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Henry lifted his head and looked at Lucas with eyes that flashed in annoyance. "Lucas, please!" Henry ground out through gritted teeth. "That is not important right now. What is important is that we find this young man Sydney and ask him some questions." He pointed to the manila folder that rested in Lucas's hands. "I have reason to believe that he's in some sort of trouble."

"Sydney?" Lucas repeated. They didn't know a Sydney, did they? Not that Lucas knew if _Henry_ knew a Sydney. The older man was like a steel trap of information. Nothing ever got out. _Sydney, Sydney…_ Lucas repeated. Then his eyebrows rose in recognition. "Oh, that smart kid in that high school class that came by? Your mini-me." Henry gave him a look, this time one of bemusement. "You have to admit; your accents are different but you do have this creepy way of knowing everything."

Henry sighed, his shoulders slumping as he finally relaxed. "Yes. _That_ Sydney. And like I said, due to the circumstantial evidence, I believe that he's in a lot of trouble so it's imperative that we find him soon." Henry crossed his arms, eyes shifting back and forth as he thought. "Now, I called the school to ask for his information, but there wasn't anything they could give me. Which is odd, especially as they must have the address and emergency contact information for every child in case there's anything that happens while at school."

Giving an incredulous laugh, Lucas walked over to his desk, dropping the folder onto his keyboard and sat down in his seat. He stretched out his legs, resting his feet on the edge of the desk. He crossed his ankles and laced his fingers together behind his head. "Yeah, I think they're trying their hardest not to have their students run off with potentially creepy men."

Once again, Henry sent Lucas a withering glare.

Lucas ignored it. "Well, officer, he said he knew the boy so I just gave him all of the information he wanted. He's been kidnapped, you say?" He laughed to himself before abruptly cutting himself off—somehow, Henry always knew how to make a simple glare seem like he was _actually_ being stabbed. "I'll just start looking for whatever it is I can find to help you out. You say he's in trouble? Circumstantial evidence you say?"

Henry nodded. There were too many kids that he had seen this happen to over the two hundred years he'd been alive. First there was the little boy who had died of tuberculosis, the ones that had gotten sick with polio, the ones that had gotten sick with malaria. Those had been deaths that couldn't have been avoided, not enough information and technology was created fast enough. But as time went on and vaccines were made, Henry found the biggest issue was of those that were to care for them. Their parents. Nearly every day, he heard of a story of a child being killed at the hands of their parents. Tortured for whatever passing fancy the responsible adult had.

And for what? To snuff out a life too soon? Before the child could reach their potential? The longer he'd been alive and the more child abuse cases he worked, the angrier Henry became. The more determined. It wasn't just not being able to save that one man's life that had turned him off from being a doctor once more, it was the kids. The ones whose parents neglected their children, the ones who blatantly didn't care. The ones who saw their children, who should've been their pride and joy and love…as _nothing._ Less than nothing. Henry absolutely couldn't stand the disgust he would feel for those parents and for the law enforcers that would take the kids back to their mothers and fathers, day after day. The justice system was flawed.

Those that were some of the most vile would only get a few years in prison while others managed to sweet-talk their way into keeping up appearances. And their children, eyes wide with fear, would slowly follow their parents out of the court rooms and police stations only to start the cycle of pain all over again.

If that was happening to Sydney… Henry shook his head. If his hard work to patch them up, to do what he was supposed to do, didn't help them get away from those that were hurting them in the first place, he wasn't going to do it anymore. And while being a medical examiner there were very few bodies that would come in that held signs of abuse, and even then he would immediately give a call to the police and watch in satisfaction when the so-called parents were taken to jail.

But this kid was alive, it wasn't too late, and he was going to help the best he could.

"Dr. Morgan?" Lucas waved his hand in front of Henry's face, causing the man to slowly blink, breaking out of his reverie. "Hey, you kinda spaced out there. Are you all right?"

Henry shifted his gaze towards Lucas and stayed silent for a moment longer. There were always times like this where he wished he could tell his secret. Tell the person he was speaking to what he was, what his curse was. But there was a reason why he refused to say anything to anyone other than Abe. There'd be too much publicity and people'd want to exploit him more than they would want to help. He'd be questioned, interrogated, maybe…maybe even tortured for information of the points of years he'd seen. He wasn't going to risk that.

Not yet.

Not when there was another life on the line.

"I was just thinking of places he'd be," Henry murmured. He turned his gaze from Lucas, disliking how he had to lie to him, even a little bit, about this case. Not just because of his secret, but because of what could happen if he weren't completely truthful. "Please, get back to me with what you can; I have a meeting I need to get to." He walked into his office and grabbed his jacket, pulling it over his shoulders. It was times like this he wished he could get his driver's license, so he didn't have to rely on public transportation or someone to drive him.

 _Though I don't suppose figuring proper documentation would be so easy now,_ Henry thought. He had started to leave his office, but Lucas's voice stopped him once more.

"But what about Detective Martinez?" Lucas called after his boss. "Don't you usually ask her for help on these sort of cases? Or, doesn't she ask you?" He thought about it for a moment, eyebrows coming together. Then he shook his head and continued with, "I mean, you two are always spending time together and everything—"

"I'll be back later, Lucas," Henry interrupted. He left the medical examiner's office and caught the bus to take him to the antique shop. He walked inside and found Abe in the middle of working with a client. Abe noticed him and hurried through the rest of the transaction—over a Bhudda statue—and went over to the man that had adopted him.

"Is everything all right?" He asked his father. "Did something happen? You didn't accidentally stick yourself with some of those chemicals that you work with and die in the middle of the office, did you?" He looked Henry up and down with a critical gaze. "Then again, you are considerably less wet and naked, so…"

Despite the situation, Henry managed a chuckle. He figured it would be something that was humorous if it weren't for it being so unpleasant every time. Not only was it the pain, but sometimes it was just plain humiliating. Henry was a private man at the best of times, but to consistently end up naked in the river and having to deal with the stares and consistent trips to the police station was starting to become a normal occurrence. Normal, yes, but no less mortifying. The specific moment that he couldn't help but think about as he went through his numerous list of deaths—he had them recorded specifically to aid in his research to figure out how to die—was the one time he had slipped on a sock that had fallen out of his laundry basket and fell down the stairs.

His last thought, before bobbing like a cork in the river—which was thankfully warm at that time of year—wasn't how much it actually hurt to have his neck break and how quickly everything went black. No. It was the fact that that death, as mundane was it was, was all because of a bloody sock.

"Abe, do you still skateboard?" Henry asked the older man.

Glancing at his father as if he were crazy, Abe motioned for him to join him at the table where the two played chess every day. Slowly lowering himself into his seat, Abe let out an unattractive grunt then leaned forward. He laced his fingers together and looked his father in the eye, lips twitching as if he was trying to hide a secret. Unfortunately for Abe, Henry knew how to use his gift against his son as well. "Now, did that sound like the sort of man who would continue to skateboard?" He waved a hand. "I was just going through a crisis. I mean, you can't die, I'm going to die soon…"

"Hopefully not too soon," Henry remarked.

A still silence stretched between them. It wasn't a conversation the had a lot. Henry still remembered when he had to tell Abe about his secret. How Abe was getting older and realized something was off with his father. And Henry had told him everything, with the two realizing there was going to be a point where Abe would physically and visibly be older than his own father. They had to come to terms with his potential death before Henry. It wasn't a conversation they had a lot, but one that continued to loom over their heads as the days passed.

"But it's going to happen, and I want you to be prepared for it."

"Thanks for the sentiment, but we're not talking about me at the moment." Henry leaned towards Abe. "Sydney, the boy who came in here a few weeks ago. Does he ever go to the skate park with you? Have you ever seen him around? I know that skateboarding is a big thing with teenagers, especially from his state of dress, and this would help me find him."

Abe's eyes lowered towards his aging hands. "The one that may be abused. Yes, I understand your concerns." He owed his life to Henry, he and Abigail, for saving him from becoming a name in history. One of those that'd be executed during the Holocaust. But the two had loved him enough to help him find life. "I understand greatly. Well, I haven't seen him around within the last few days. Pretty odd. Especially since he took the time to find you here. But I can ask the dudes at the park if they know of him."

Abe could feel Henry's eyes on him and peeked upwards. Yes, it was that familiar 'I-know-there's-something-you're-not-telling-me' look that all parents somehow learned.

"What?"

"I thought you stopped skateboarding?"

"OK!" Abe brought his hands to his lap. He was guilty, caught, no way out of this one. How had he known that Henry would want him to quit so badly? He was doing it for fun and to feel young, it wasn't like the next moment he tripped and fell he'd break a hip. "You caught me. But you worry and I don't like it when you worry. So, I didn't tell you I was still doing it."

"Right, well, if you break a bone, don't say I didn't warn you."

"OK then." Abe nodded once. "I'll just sit quietly while you bandage me up and _you_ remind me that you warned me." Standing up, he pushed back the edge of his chair in his movement. Henry couldn't help but notice it took him a few moments longer than usual to straighten himself. "I'll go check it out. There haven't been a lot of customers today anyway." His voice lifted with his next words, "I wonder why."

Henry immediately felt himself flush. Just like their conversation about death, the conversation about their store was almost a daily occurrence. "Just because I want to be sure that our items are sold to people who will really care about them doesn't mean it's a bad thing," Henry defended himself.

"Keep telling yourself that."

Abe left the antique store, flipping the OPEN sign over to CLOSED. Henry continued to sit at the chess table for a long moment, staring at the pieces as they were arranged on the board. They couldn't move unless they were directed to, much like the way child abuse victims were handled. Henry's hand closed into a fist.

He was going to find that boy.

* * *

 **A/N:** I'm sorry it took me so long to get back to this. I haven't given up on it, your reviews and favorites as of late have helped motivated me, but some other fandoms have ruled my attention. But I really did enjoy this story the first time around and knew I wanted to finish it with the idea I had in mind. So, even if this chapter was a bit short, I hope you still enjoyed it and I'll have the next one up soon.

 **Cheers,**

 **-Riles**


	5. Chapter 5

**.:5:.**

* * *

Sydney slowly, painfully lifted himself off his bedroom floor. He looked down where he had just been lying and saw a few spots of blood had fallen to the carpet. Stained it further than he'd expected or hoped. Oh, that would hurt him more than he currently was. It just meant another beating if he didn't get it out of the carpet soon enough. And with the cleaning supplies hidden behind a need for permission…

Shaking his head, Sydney then registered the ringing in his ears. The muffled, underwater sloshing as he tried to straighten himself. With a dry mouth, he swallowed, trying to regain some moisture. He flicked out his tongue to run over his lips then cringed. The metallic taste of blood immediately reached him, making his stomach quiver with nausea. His lip was split, not the first time.

Fingers carefully moving up his face, Sydney took stock of the damage he'd been dealt. Swollen and split lip, black eye—he could barely touch the bone of his eye socket without wincing, tears coming to his eyes, bruising around his jaw bone. He must've been held down and punched, his shoulder ached with the memory of a tight grasp to the bone. The rest of his body was too painful to move very far, very fast. He remembered numerous blows to his chest and stomach before blacking out.

All for telling him that he was on his last beer.

Sydney continued to push himself until he was able to stand without needing something to hold him up. Barely lifting his feet, Sydney shuffled to the bathroom. He looked into the mirror to study his reflection. Or rather, a horrific mask. Seeing the damage up close didn't faze him anymore. He merely glanced at each of the wounds, dark blue eyes slowly shuffling around before he lifted the bottom of his shirt and stared at his chest and stomach. It was turning black and blue, much like the two colors he always wore.

 _Always find a way to hide it,_ he reminded himself with a frown. The movement made the split in his lips widen. Blood pooled, beaded up, and rolled down his chin into the sink. It splattered the one spot of color against the otherwise white marble. _I'm going to have to clean that up too._

Just like the beer bottle he cleaned up. Thankfully, his reflexes had improved, he was able to duck out of the way of the flying projectile the moment his father had lifted his hand. Quickly cleaning up the blood in the sink and stopping the bleeding from his lip, Sydney prepared himself to leave the bathroom. He listened hard before opening the door. The silence was deafening, making the sound of his heartrate slowly drown it out. He grasped the doorknob and turned it all the way before opening the door. The quietest way to do so, and stuck his head out. He listened for the surefire sign that his father was moving around, low muttering, bumping, dropping things. But nothing.

Finally, he was all alone.

Just as he had been for the past couple of years, when he had been ripped away from his brothers and sisters in Australia and taken to New York. They were all older than him, five years, seven years, ten years, they weren't and couldn't be under Robert's control anymore. Once they turned of age he grabbed the youngest one, Sydney, and fled to the US.

How many times had they gone to the police to say what was happening? How many times had they been scared into silence due to Robert's presence around him? How many times had he watched in dismay as Robert managed to charm the police officers that came around? Too many to count. Enough so that Sydney didn't try anymore. He just waited. Waited for the right time to get away. Always waiting.

Once figuring the apartment was quiet, Sydney stepped into the shower to clean off. A cold shower. He preferred it, it made it so that he was still able to feel something. Getting in the shower, Sydney stood under the spray, watching as the blood rolled down his body and swirled down the drain in rusty colored, swirling ribbons.

He didn't stay in the shower long; there wasn't a lot of time left. Robert rarely went anywhere without popping back into the apartment to be sure Sydney was doing as he was told. His only moments of reprieve were when he was at school. The only time he could even try to be normal. Getting out of the shower, Sydney dried off and went through the routine of dressing his wounds, covering them as much as he could, and redressed. Sydney jumped as the apartment's silence was shattered by the sound of the front door opening and closing slamming shut. Then the tell-tale sounds of Robert's footsteps heading towards the kitchen. He had only gone down to the corner store to get some more beer, the precursor to either a good mood or being beaten for the rest of the night.

Sydney painfully went back to his room and climbed into his bed, curling up into the fetal position. He closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. A tear collected at the corner of his eye, frustration swelling in his chest. He refused to let the tear fall. It would only give Robert more power. The last thing Sydney needed was more weakness in the power struggle.

Because he was going to get away, one way or another.

* * *

"Ok, you're aware that these aren't, specifically, the kinds of cases that I do, right?" Jo said as she shifted in the driver's seat of her squad car. She tightened her hands on the steering wheel and glanced at Henry with an air of disdain out of the corner of her eye. "In fact, I'm not a private investigator or even pretend to be one." She shook her head. "This is seriously going out of my jurisdiction."

Henry let out a light chuckle, letting her continue to rant. He turned his gaze from the passenger side window, watching everyone that passed the car. (He couldn't miss the way those on the street glanced at the car before straightening themselves to look inconspicuous). He stretched his legs as far as they could go, the seat couldn't extend any further. Who knew squad cars weren't as spacious as they appeared to be? Then again, he had been around long enough to see the change of automobiles and he was glad they had become more fuel efficient and safer as the years had gone by.

Nevertheless, the discomfort was something he'd preferred to be handled as automobiles improved. _Such is life,_ he thought.

He cleared his throat and said, "I know you're anxious, Detective, but the last thing you need to do is compensate for that by being specifically abrasive to me." He finally looked at her, an amused smile on his face. It must've annoyed Jo—he wasn't surprised by that, for she immediately opened her mouth to defend herself, closing it once more when Henry continued. "It's dark out, we're watching a bar. I can't even begin to count how many drunken men have leered at you as they went by." He bobbed his head back and forth. "Not to mention you're not particularly happy to be stuck in such tight quarters with me, but even that's up for debate."

Jo slowly closed her mouth. She was used to being rendered speechless by the peculiar medical examiner, but she had never truly been at a loss for words. Was it as pathetic as she thought it was? She was the one that was in power, the one that had the gun, the taser, the badge, and the ability to shut down the bar if she ever felt things were getting out of control. And yet, she was still a woman and found herself worried about what would happen if there was a chance she was caught alone with someone who was drunk.

Especially if that someone was the one Henry was accusing of abusing his son. Then she thought about the last thing he had said and sat up straight, looking at him incredulously. "I beg your pardon," she said.

Henry tried and failed to look confused at her sudden indignation. Being alive for so long, one of the things he enjoyed the most was people watching, knowing what they were thinking and feeling when they weren't aware of it themselves. A slightly smug smile came to his face.

"Over the past few cases we've worked, we usually end up coming back with you warning me not to do something or that I need to be more careful," he said slowly. "Showing that you don't outright despite me. And considering that you willingly listened to what I've had to say and brought me out here, also willingly to sit with me in close quarters for hours on end…there's also the slight hesitation of being in the car with me…I can't help but think that it's because there are still things about your husband and his passing that you haven't gotten over."

Jo let out a pained sigh, turning her head and resting it against the window at her side. She accused him of being mysterious and holding things in all the time, and then she went and did the same. How could she open herself up to someone in that way when her husband was the only one that had managed to break through her walls?

 _Well, Henry's done that too, but in a different way,_ she reminded herself. _Whether he wanted to or not, though he's always so self-assured about himself._ Brushing her hair off of her forehead she let out another sigh, trying to formulate an answer.

Well, they had grown to be close as time went on with the cases they worked on. Henry certainly did have a knack for figuring out things that she and the rest of her co-workers wouldn't have been able to do. After seeing him put his skills to the test, she knew he would be a great help for them and continued to seek him out whenever something big came in.

Or was that the real reason why?

"It was a…strange day," she murmured. "We had gone to the gym early that morning…and the next thing I knew he was stumbling off the treadmill, grasping at his chest. Then…he was gone." She shook her head, staring out the window, not focusing on anything. "I didn't think it would be like that."

"Well, no one can see whenever death is coming," Henry said with a pained expression he tried his hardest to hide. Too many memories. Too many people he lost. "The best thing you can do is take life one step at a time. Though I can say with confidence that he wouldn't have gone if he had the choice." Jo looked over at him, noticing the sudden change in tone in his voice. It had turned soft, soothing. Pained expression changing to one that was almost serene and wistful. "The love you felt for each other…it's what many try to achieve and when you find it, the last thing you want to do is to let go. It doesn't mean, after their passing that you _do_ let go, it means you move on…still taking them with you."

"Henry?" Jo couldn't help the curious tone that came to her voice. But Henry Morgan was a mystery she wanted nothing more to solve. "Have…have you been married before?"

Now how was he supposed to answer that question? If he said 'yes', then he would have to show pictures, answer questions…it wouldn't take long for her to figure out there was something he was hiding and would continue to hide until he was sure there was someone else he could confide his secret to. However, if he said 'no' there were still questions he would need to answer because what he had said…it would only come from experience of those that had been married. Curse his means to be a shoulder to lean on.

The pain in his voice was evident; he could hear it. Henry cursed himself for having become so open to her. But he couldn't help it. There was something about their situation that had wanted him to…get closer to her? He hadn't wanted to get close to anyone since Abigail.

"I've…had some experience with relationships," he finally said, slowly. Gratingly slow. "Some worked out, some didn't."

"But there was still one that was really special, wasn't there?" Jo continued to press.

"You're very perceptive." Henry eyed her out of the corner of his eye, noticing how she turned her head from the window and gently lifted her chin, the way her shoulders moved downwards, her hands moving from being clasped around the steering wheel to resting in her lap. She was comfortable with him, completely comfortable for the first time since they had met. It made him smile. She didn't even notice. "Of course, not as perceptive as I am"—Jo glared at him—"That's not the point. Yes, there was someone very special to me in my life."

"What happened?"

"…Things didn't work out."

"No children?"

Henry grimaced, that question opened up a different can of worms. "No, I haven't. But I've worked around a lot of kids over my years as a doctor and I can't stand to think that there's something truly evil happening to them."

An image of Abe as an infant popped into his head nestled in Abigail's arm as he worked to save as many people as he could from the Jewish internment camp. He couldn't bear to think what would've happened to him if they hadn't had intervened and adopted him.

"I can turn my cheek on a lot of things, but not when it comes to the danger of a child."

Jo nodded and there was a heavy silence in the car once more. The two continued to watch the entrance of the bar until a group started to work their way out, stumbling to stay upright. The two tensed and watched as the group of men in their early forties or so talked and laughed with each other. Some of them were swaying on their feet; others appeared to have been able to hold their liquor well and were holding the others up. After a few moments, the group dispersed into a few taxis, leaving one man standing on the curb.

Henry looked towards the man as he looked at his phone and headed inside, and then quickly shifted his gaze down to the folder that was in his lap. Lucas had done a great job at getting the information he needed to know.

"Robert Jackson," Lucas said early that afternoon, dropping the folder onto Henry's desk. Henry looked up at his assistant then grabbed the folder. "He's forty-two, has been in New York for almost one year, and has a son, Sydney. Strangely enough since you're almost never wrong, there aren't any indicators or abuse. No other trips to doctors other than a physical."

 _Strange._ Henry took the folder and opened it, staring at the photo of the man that sat in front of him. The man was handsome but had piercing gray eyes that made Henry feel a bit unsettled. Even though he was only looking at a picture. He couldn't begin to imagine what Sydney saw if his assumptions were correct. "If there've been no complaints, no trips to the doctor or the hospital other than a physical, then things will be harder to figure out."

"But I did find one thing that should be of good use to you," Lucas continued. "This guy has a fifteen-year-old son but no girlfriend. That gives grounds for the two to spend a lot of time together, right?" Henry nodded. He spent a lot of time with Abe while his son had been growing up; all of the healthy relationships had the father and son communicate often. "Wrong. This guy is constantly seen at the Uptown Billiards Club."

Henry gave him a blank look.

Lucas stared back for a moment then realized his boss didn't have a clue what he was talking about. "It's a bar…across the city." He crossed his arms, watching as the man looked at the picture once more. "Great priced beer, pool tables, and good times. I mean, maybe one day after work we could hang out like bros. Go to the bar, play a game of pool, get to know each other?" Henry glanced at him once more. Lucas cringed, immediately looking away. "You know, it was just an idea. Anyway, there's everything you need about that guy. He's always at the bar, so chances are he's gonna be there soon."

"Thanks Lucas, this is very helpful," Henry said to him, busying himself in his work. Lucas had nodded and left the room, leaving Henry to scour all the information he could get on Robert Jackson as he could.

Now that he saw the man head back into the bar, Henry quickly got out of the car and headed towards the entrance. Jo scurried out after him and hurried over to the man. "Wait!" She called. She then noticed the stares she was getting from the seedy men that continued to stand around outside. Looping her arm through Henry's, she leaned close to him, earning a surprised glance in response. "We have to be inconspicuous right?" She pointed out. "It'd be weird if you went in by yourself and immediately went straight to the guy and laid him out."

"Laid him out?" Henry repeated. His handsome features twisted up in confusion. "Is _that_ what they're saying now?"

"Urban dictionary, my friend," Jo pointed out. "A few hours on that website and a cell phone and you'll be brought into the twenty-first century, I promise." She patted him on the arm and the two slid inside the bar. Henry scanned the bar until he found Robert sitting on a bar stool, minding his own business, doing shots. Henry tilted his head and the two walked over, taking the two empty stools next to him. He glanced at Henry, who sat directly next to him, and nodded in greeting before turning back to his glass of beer.

"Take it from me, man," Robert said in a voice that bordered on gruff. "It doesn't matter what you order, after a while it all starts to taste the same, right?" He chuckled to himself and took another sip, nodding to the bartender who moved over to address Henry and Jo for their drink orders. "But Neil here, he'll give you a good deal."

"Thanks for the tip," Henry said. He gave Neil their drink orders and leaned back as Robert looked at him in amusement. "Is there something wrong?"

"My son…my adopted son…he talks exactly like you do," Robert replied, his words slurring slightly. Henry was a bit impressed, the man had clearly been there for a while judging by the glasses around him and he was only just starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. "With that accent and everything."

"Oh, is he British?" Jo broke in.

"No, Australian."

Henry turned to Jo and gave her a look of offense. "I'm Welsh," he said to her. Jo shrugged in reply, trying her best to appear inconspicuous as possible in case she needed to make a move. "Please excuse my friend, she's geographically challenged." Jo elbowed him in the side and he did his best not to smile, enjoying her annoyance. "But he's from Australia, you said?"

"Yes, sir, I adopted him when he was an infant, parents died in a house fire. It's really very sad. Tragic." Robert took a long gulp of beer and belched. "New York seems to be working out for him though. He's always going somewhere after school, I hardly see him as it is. He's kind of a tough kid, though. Never tells me where he's going, who he's with, sometimes I have to remind him that I'm the boss in the house. I need to know his whereabouts at all times. Am I right?"

Henry was doing his best to restrain himself. The way the man was sitting on the bench next to him, speaking about his son as if it were normal. Clearly, he believed everything he was saying. But Henry could see something smug about him, could hear it in his words. It infuriated him. This man was hurting his son, Henry knew it deep down in his gut, and the man continued to sit there on the stool and pour back beers, practically laughing as he spoke about the boy, trying to appear innocent.

Beside him, he could see Jo press her palms together before lacing her fingers, knuckles white. Her lips pursed. Her gaze shifted to Henry and subtly, very subtly, she shook her head. He got the message. Not now. Relax. We need more information. But Henry couldn't help it. He had to say smething.

Speaking up once more, Henry tried a different tactic. "You know, I think I've met him before? I'm a medical examiner and he came into my office during a field trip for his class."

"Right, I remember having signed that stupid permission slip. The way I see it, if kids want to do something and they got a chaperone, they don't need a permission to do it."

"He's really very remarkable," Henry continued in a clipped tone. "A very smart kid. He even correctly deducted what had happened to the body I was working on at the time." Now he went in for the kill. "I've seen him around since then and he continues to amaze me with his intellect."

Robert rolled his eyes, pushing his glass away from him. "The kid is a freaking smart ass. I can't ever get him to shut up." Then he slowly started to laugh. "Well, it used to be a problem, not so much anymore. You got to show them you mean business sometimes, man. If you ever have kids, remember that." He nonchalantly tossed a couple of bills onto the counter and that movement along with Henry's last words caused the man to erupt.

Henry leapt off his chair and swung wide, catching his fist on the side of Robert's face. The man stumbled back and chaos erupted around them as Robert came back at Henry with a punch that knocked him to the floor. Henry had underestimated the man and how many drinks he had consumed. He expected someone who would fall over, not become enraged because of it and manage to fire back so easily. Bringing a hand up to his face, Henry got to his feet and turned back around, ready to lash out at Robert once more and found a flurry of fists thrown his way. He did his best to dodge and weave, catching a few himself, before firing back at him.

"NYPD! Break it up!" Jo called loudly, showing off her badge. Robert looked at it and immediately backed down, having been held back by a few bar patrons around them. "Break it up!" With a sigh of resignation, she waved to Robert. "You're free to go," she said.

Enraged, Henry whirled back to her, eyes flashing. "What?" He demanded. "He's free to go?"

"We can't charge him with anything as there is no proof of anything that he's done other than defend himself." She sighed once more and regarded Henry carefully. "You on the other hand…you know I have to arrest you, right?"

Still glaring, Henry pushed by her and stormed towards her cruiser. "I've had a lot of experience with that." At least, this time, he didn't have to have the handcuffs put on him.

* * *

The next morning, as Sydney left his apartment, he was sure he was being followed. Living with Robert, he became aware of any sense of potential danger. Any sneak attack that would catch him off-guard. So much so that he woke up at the briefest sound of something moving. He'd been awakened with punches raining on his body once before. It wouldn't happen again.

Living in New York, where being aware of surroundings was even more important, Sydney was hypervigilant. Not only was there a good chance that he could be mugged, but as far as he was concerned, his father was a bit too cautious about people he talked to and hung out with. This was different; he was on his way into the city, skipping school that day so he could duck into the library. Anything so no one would ask where he was or why he was walking funny. He had managed to hide the bruises on his face and get the swelling down with a lot of ice, but the rest of his body felt as if it were on fire.

Not that he wasn't used to it. It had been going on long enough.

 _Just like this guy following me._ Shifting his lower jaw to the side, Sydney hitched his backpack up his back, wincing at the movement, and spoke out towards Henry, who was following a few meters behind him. "I know you're following me," he said to the man. Coming to a stop, he turned around and eyed the man critically. "What do you want, mate?"

Henry's eyebrows rose as he walked up to the teenage boy and continued by him without breaking his stride. "What makes you think I'm following you?"

"You didn't deny it for one thing," Sydney commented. With a few long strides he caught up to Henry's side. "The other being that your body language; your posture, hands in pockets, walking at a leisurely pace…you're really confident. You've taken the exact same turns I've been taking for the past few blocks and it can't be a coincidence that you're coming this way, yeah?"

Henry smiled.

The teenage boy really was like him, minus his obvious immortality. It was just…so good to know there was someone around him that was able to do the same things and deduce simple ideas the same way he had. He still got strange looks from those he could easily watch and determine where they were going and as amusing as it was, it was a lonely feeling. Not even Abe, who was the last person he had in his life, understood what it was like to have such infinite knowledge at his fingertips that, when expressed, caused alienation of those around them.

"I'm merely taking a stroll," Henry said.

"This early in the morning?" Sydney's right eyebrow curled upwards. "Don't you have a job or something to go to?"

"Don't you have school?"

"Fair chance," Sydney noted. Henry wasn't quite sure what that meant, knowing a lot about a lot of things but not quite brushed up on his Aussie slang, though he was sure it was a good thing as Sydney had smiled. "I'm...not really feeling going to school today. It's no big thing, I'm a good student and I can easily make things up. My teachers won't care."

"I'm sure they'd care a lot," Henry remarked, his own smile fading. "If it's not the first time you haven't skipped school for a good reason."

Now Sydney snorted. "It's not like Uni is going to care if I have a few days in high school that I skipped. My grades and extracurriculars will take care of that for me, yeah?" He then slowed to a stop at a corner, cars blaring out in front of him. His eyes narrowed, and he looked up at Henry, who continued to stand beside him. "There's…something you're not telling me," he said.

Henry continued to look out in front of him for a long moment, watching as the light changed, and started across the street once more. "Really?"

"Really." Sydney nodded once then smirked. "You were sent to jail last night. For getting into a bar right."

Henry faked a grimace. It was the opening he needed. "Yes, well, it's not my finest hour. I just got into a bit of a spat with another man that was there." He cleared his throat as Sydney chuckled. "It was such a peculiar coincidence; it was your father I got into the fight with."

The smirk immediately fell from Sydney's face. He gulped quietly. No wonder Robert had stormed back into the house in such a drunken stupor the night before. As soon as he had heard the front door slam open, Sydney flew under his bed, pressing himself to the floor, quiet as possible. His father had been so drunk that when he saw an empty room he took that for face value and continued to trash the rest of the apartment before blacking out. But at least he hadn't laid a hand on him once more; Sydney didn't think he would survive if he got caught in the wrath once more. If not waking up in the hospital and that was and even worse thought.

 _Play it cool, Syd. It's not a big deal._ "Huh. That's funny."

"And I couldn't help but notice that he gets pretty enraged when drunk," Henry continued.

"He's enraged a lot, even without beer," Sydney said before he could stop himself and immediately, closed in on himself. _Way to go, boofhead._ He didn't like the way Henry was looking at him. "His job makes him stressed!" He snapped. "It's none of your fucking business anyway!" He opened his stride, trying to get away from Henry, but the older man continued to keep his pace with him.

Henry thought about confronting him then and there, but decided against it. Now wasn't the time. He needed Sydney to trust him more. Instead, Henry grabbed Sydney's shoulder, pulling him to a stop. Sydney roughly tried to shake loose, but Henry held tight. "Instead of going where you were headed…why don't you come to work with me?" He suggested. "You can get some experience in the field…see how things are done. No questions asked."

The Australian teen must've heard the calm, friendly tone in Henry's voice for he stopped struggling and listened to Henry. Gaze on the ground, still glaring—mentally berating himself—Sydney nodded.

Henry put his arm around Sydney's shoulders and led him off towards his office.

* * *

 **A/N:** More things are coming up. I hope you guys still enjoy the story and I should have another update sooner than this one took. Thanks!

 **Cheers,**

 **-Riles**


	6. Chapter 6

**.:6:.**

* * *

Detective Hanson looked up as Jo walked into an enclosed office, carrying a large box. His eyes flickered over the side of the box, reading the case name. Then they shifted to the bags of evidence that poked through the top and he sighed. With a tilt of his head, Detective Hanson sighed towards the opened box beside him. The flats stuck straight open, papers strewn everywhere, accompanying those already in hand.

"Is that more on the Jackson case?" He asked her.

"Yes, it is," Jo replied. She let out a sigh, blowing her fringe off her forehead. "Though I can't say it's much of a case. Just a bunch of evidence, transcripts of calls from neighbors. Records of warnings..." She sat next to him and gazed at the box, gently shaking her head. "I can't believe a guy with a file this big is still walking free. How many DUI's do you have to get before your license is suspended or taken away or…?"

"Your children taken to a better home?" Detective Hanson continued to flip through the papers in his hands. Almost as if he hadn't heard anything Jo had said, despite responding directly to her. "There's always something that keeps these guys from getting what they deserve. I mean, look at these—" he shook the letters in his hand. "Either he has a lot of money or he knows some big people.

Jo bobbed her head back and forth. "Yeah, well, Henry's is just as big." She hadn't realized the innuendo of what she had said until Detective Hanson started to chuckle to himself. A small, wheezing laugh that would've sounded nothing more than an asthmatic trying to catch their breath. It took her a few beats before she looked over and rolled her eyes towards him. "Oh, come on, Hanson! You _know_ that's not what I meant!"

"I don't know, Jo," Detective Hanson wheedled. He still had an amused smile on his face despite the harsh stare that Jo was sending his way. Enough that would make any other perpetrator, criminal, and even a suspect cower more than under their mother's disciplined stare. "You and Henry seem to have a connection. You defend him every chance you get and that's only when you're not constantly trying to keep him from getting into things." He lowered in his seat, picking up a file folder and started to read over it.

"Almost like chasing after a child who is constantly getting in trouble."

"I'm just saying it seems like you really care about him. That's all."

"I care about a lot of people. Including you and the status of your life if you don't end this conversation." Jo's smile was a mixture of sugary sweet and icy cold as she said, "Now," she slowly and deliberately that Hanson's smile was immediately wiped form his face.

He nodded and mumbled an apology, something sounding suspiciously like a childlike, "I was just saying," before busying himself in his work. Jo did the same, sitting at her own desk, crossing her legs at the knee. She grabbed her own box and pulled it closer to her. Her lips pursed as she mulled over the evidence shoved inside. Files. Reports. All against the man Henry was pretty sure was a child abuser. "Pretty sure" wasn't something she could work with. She needed to have concrete facts, everything leading to the right direction.

All she knew was that Robert Jackson really liked going to the bar for some drinks, and that he had many arrests for public intoxication. Nothing more than an overnight in the drunk tank. He was smart enough to not allow himself to be arrested too many times in a row. And, as Hanson noted, he either had a lot of money or knew someone very powerful to continue to get away with it with only a slap on the wrist.

 _Okay,_ she thought. _What is Henry seeing?_ After all, there was always something that Henry Morgan managed to see that she and others didn't. Jo wasn't a complete skeptic of him, but found that a lot of things happened in a way that was too weird to explain. Like…how he was constantly showing up naked in the river. _It's not like it means Henry has a lot of money or knows a lot of people,_ she mulled. _He easily gets arrested and released the same day. Hasn't even been added to a list or anything._ Jo pressed her chin to her hand, her mind wandering to many places it certainly shouldn't have been. Specifically, with the thought that Henry was too attractive to be added on a sexual offenders list with the others she'd managed to put away over the years.

Startled, Jo shook her head and turned her attention back to the task at hand. She cleared her throat sternly, as if scolding herself. Enough about Henry, it was important to think about Robert. His exchanged with Henry. She'd been there at the bar, watching them and she had a gut feeling. Something was way off. She'd give her life for it. She'd done it many times, put her life on the line to follow a feeling and had always been proven right. Something wasn't completely adding up. Henry had gotten so angry so quickly and whilst even she thought child abusers were despicable, they couldn't particularly press charges against Robert when there was nothing to charge. It was terrible how many cases of child abuse managed to fall through the cracks of the justice system.

Because there was never enough proof.

Because the parent was only exhibiting discipline.

Because what goes on in the family home is private?

Because the neighbors were just being noisy?

Take your pick.

She'd heard them all.

Jo tapped her fingers against her chin. Henry was the one who'd attacked first; the only time Jo had seen him angry. A stark contrast to the calm, cool, collected demeanor Henry always showed. Not very different from the smug one that was hiding just beneath the surface.

Something had really struck him… _what is it about the Sydney that got Henry so riled up?_ She thought about the allegations that Henry had put against him the first time he brought up Robert. He'd said he thought Sydney was separated from his brothers and sisters…and yet Robert only mentioned having one son…?

"Wait a minute," Jo murmured. She sat up and motioned to Detective Hanson to drop the file he was looking at. He was by her side in seconds, attracted to her by the sound of her low 'hum'. She had a hunch. And when Jo Martinez had a hunch, it was best to not be ignored. "When Henry and I found Robert at the bar, we talked to him a little bit." Detective Hanson motioned for her to continue. "Robert mentioned only having one son. But Henry has been friend with Sydney for a little while—"

"—what kinds of friends does this guy have?" Hanson interrupted, right eyebrow cocking upwards. "First, this guy is a loner who seems to get his rocks off for swimming naked in the river." Jo did her best to keep from laughing, but found herself unable to do so. In the right context, it was funny. "He's a loner. And then we find out he's friends with this Abe guy, and he could be, what this guy's father. And now he's friends with a fifteen year old kid? You don't think that's weird?"

"Well, Henry's got some peculiar tastes and interests," Jo said slowly. She managed to regain her composure. "And that's not the point. Why would this say that he only had one kid when that kid says he has brothers and sisters? The parents died in a house fire…but the way Sydney had spoken of them, it sounds like he hadn't been, if this is the case, separated from them until recently."

Detective Hanson placed his hands on his hips and let out a slightly impatient sigh. "Maybe the rest of his the family are screw-ups. I don't think I'd want to mention them much either if that's the case."

Jo gave him a look. "We're not talking about your family."

"Neither am I…even if my little brother is a punk." Detective Hanson shook his head. He gave a resigned sigh, as if regretting he was about to entertain her suspicion. Jo smiled, knowing what was coming. By that point in their partnership, Detective Hanson knew to let her go with what she was feeling with no resistance or he'd go kicking and screaming. So far, he was kicking. "Let's say that's what happened…why would he only take the youngest kid?"

Jo's smile immediately faded. "That's the million-dollar question," She admitted. It was the only part of the puzzle she couldn't quite put together.

With a slight sigh, Jo started to look through other files. Arrests for public intoxication, reports from CPS, but nothing that would give cause for an arrest. No assaults, no manslaughter, no vehicle manslaughter, nothing. Nevertheless, Jo wouldn't be deterred. She looked through each of the files, her pursed lips tightening even further as the seconds passed. _How many times can CPS be brought to this guy's house? Calls from teachers, neighbors, his co-workers and nothing that would bring the guy in?_ However, Jo couldn't help but notice there hadn't been any calls from Sydney.

She didn't expect there to be. She'd been trained on knowing the signs of abuse for years. It was the point of child abusers and their victims, there was a massive power struggle and those that were abused became very enclosed upon themselves and allowed themselves to have it continue to happen simply because of fear. Because of the power the abusers managed to use and abuse.

"Wait, a minute!" Detective Hanson whipped around and surged back to his desk. He moved so fast it sent a flutter of wind through the papers on her desk. Detective Hanson grabbed the papers on his desk. "Check this out, he's been in New York, the state, for about a year now. But he's changed addresses all over the state in that time. He's been in Westchester, Albany, Buffalo, Courtland, Geneva, Ithaca, Lockport, Peekskill, Poughkeepsie, Syracuse, Yonkers…he's moved eleven times in the last two and a half years! All shortly after he had some sort of a visit from CPS or had the cops come to search his house."

Jo raced to her partner's side, giving her chance to look over the information herself. "Every time someone is close to finding out his secret, he would pack them up and move somewhere else." Jo chewed her lower lip. "How do we know that's not the same for his brothers and sisters?"

"Do we even know if he does?" Hanson pointed out. He dropped the papers to the desktop. "We got the records, it was a closed adoption."

"Yes, well, we have our ways of breaking that information," Jo said. She patted him on the shoulder before stepping back and reaching over to grab her coat. She threw it over her shoulders and slid her arms through the sleeves. "You get that started, see if there's any information we can get on Sydney's family and past in Australia, I need to go see Henry. If there's anyone that could potentially know more about this, it's him."

She started to leave the room.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Jo."

Jo paused in the doorway, hearing the amused lift in Hanson's voice once more. She could easily defend herself and get him off her back, but then what would that do? Make him think, even stronger, that something was happening between her and Henry. The thought was simply ludicrous; he annoyed her and had a tiny bit of a 'holier-than-thou' sort of air around him as if he had seen it all and was never wrong.

Nevertheless, Jo had to admit there was something interesting about him; his energy and commitment to his job was remarkable and was able to read people in ways she wished she could do. It'd help with police investigations for sure.

Hanson's laughter broke Jo out of her thoughts and she shook her head before leaving the room.

In his dreams.

* * *

"And this is where we keep the dead bodies," Lucas said to Sydney as he stepped into a large, cold room, turning on a light. The fluorescents snapped on and Sydney blinked rapidly, bringing a hand up to shield his face.

Arms spread wide, Lucas turned back to Sydney, flashing him a smile. A 'isn't-this-great' sort of smile. Sydney, however, hovered in the doorway to the morgue, blue eyes roving over the rows and columns of drawers that lined the far wall. The rest of the room was clean, empty, almost as if no one had ever touched it. Almost like a hospital room. Sydney tentatively stepped inside the room.

"It can be pretty scary, sometimes," Lucas continued, completely oblivious to Sydney's hesitation. "Especially when some of the others that work here want to play a prank and move a body somewhere unexpected." He reached out and placed a hand on a drawer to hold himself up, resting his other hand on his hip. Lucas chuckled, drumming his fingertips along his hip. "Like the bathroom."

"The dunny?" Sydney repeated, eyebrows rising upwards.

"Yeah, right," Lucas said after a quick pause. "Scared the crap out of me." He reached out and slapped a hand against the drawer his palm had been lying flat upon and it shot open, revealing the dead body that lay inside. Sydney jumped and let out a yelp, slamming backwards into the wall behind him. His eyes screwed up in pain and he turned away, hoping Lucas didn't see.

That wasn't a problem as Lucas was too busy laughing hysterically, accompanied with hugging his stomach and slapping his knee. The sound attracted Henry to the room where he stuck his head inside and gave Lucas a disapproving look.

"You have far too much time on your hands, Lucas," Henry said, crossing his arms.

Lucas sobered from his laughter, wiping tears from his eyes. "Oh, come on, you did the same to me when I first started working here. And besides, you told me to give him the tour and you can't tour a Medical Examiner's office and not show him where we stash the dead bodies." He then noticed that Sydney was suddenly standing very stiffly, arms at his sides. "Hey, are you OK?"

"I'm fine," Sydney said tersely, almost sarcastically. He spoke through clenched teeth, lowered his jaw so that his fringe hanging over his eyebrows made him appear angry. "I just…hit myself against the wall…the…the bloody doorjamb, yeah?" Sydney then cleared his throat and regained his composure. The stark difference between his attitudes was stark. It came so fast; Lucas and Henry almost didn't notice.

Almost.

"Good job, Lucas," Sydney congratulated him. "Bonzer. Though that's not as good as what my brothers and sisters can come up with." He started to smile fondly. "You can't be the youngest of six without learning how to defend yourself and how to play pranks." He moved away from the assistant medical examiner and headed towards the door. "Is there anything else to see?"

"I'll show you my office," Henry said with a nod. A significant look passed over his face that Sydney didn't seem to notice. "Otherwise I think that's the long and short of it. What do you say after that we go out and get some lunch?" He turned and gave Lucas a pointed look. "Which I'm sure Lucas will be glad to pay for considering that little prank he pulled."

Lucas's mouth dropped open in surprise and sorrow. "Oh, y-yeah, sure, I'll just…" Lucas trailed off as he started to pat the pockets of his scrubs. "Hey, where's my wallet?" He continued to frantically search his person until he heard Henry clearing his throat. Looking up, Lucas noticed the smug smile on his boss's face before the older man tilted his head toward the teenage boy, who appeared just as smug.

Sydney pulled his hand from his sweatshirt pocket and waved Lucas's wallet overhead. "Another thing you learn is how to trick people." He tossed it back to Lucas before shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pocket. He leaned against the wall once more, eyebrow cocking upwards at the same time his smirk widened. "By the way, mate, I fancy Mexican."

Lucas caught his flying wallet with one hand, the other being used to create a 'V' shape. He pointed it towards his eyes then back towards Sydney. "There's something seriously wrong with you, kid. You're some sort of evil mastermind or something. I bet one day you'll take over the world and we'll all be answering to you."

Henry chuckled and stepped back so Sydney and Lucas could follow him out of the morgue. He closed the door behind them and followed the two at a leisurely pace. Watching. Lucas and Sydney spoke animatedly, though Henry noticed Sydney made sure not to move his arms too quickly. When he did, a grimace would shoot across Sydney's face and he bring a hand back to—what he thought was—discreetly, stretch his back. Even from the way Sydney hunched his shoulders forward, that he was in a lot of pain.

Henry led Sydney to his office and allowed the teenage boy to go inside. There were a lot of things he was proud of, but his office was his pride and joy. Everything that filled his office were remnants of his past, things he collected that he enjoyed over the years. And he couldn't help but smile at the wonder in Sydney's eyes as he took in his office.

Finally, with a toss of his head to move his hair back from his face, Sydney muttered, "It's no wonder you work in an antique shop as well, mate. You have some pretty good stuff here." He reached up and carefully picked up a magnifying glass off Henry's desk and moved it back and forth in front of his face. "Do you use some of these things on the bodies or do you just like to collect them?"

"Collect," Henry replied.

"I reckon it's a strange collection, yeah?"

"Yes, well, I really enjoy history," Henry said as he stood behind the teenage boy, hands clasped behind his back. "Though I believe I should be asking you the same question." Sydney's eyes narrowed slightly, noticeable through the magnifying glass he continued to hold in front of his eye. "Not many fifteen-year-olds are interested in history and antiques to the same caliber that you do. And as it stands, not many of them can afford a thousand-dollar hand mirror, either."

Sydney's eyes shifted then cleared the second he turned to face Henry. Sydney glanced at his feet for a moment before suddenly appearing more confident. Combative. "Yeah, well, my Dad doesn't care what I spend my money on as long as it's nothing too extravagant."

"He gives you a lot of money to spend then?" Henry pressed.

Sydney shrugged. Henry saw his jaw harden, much like he was clenching his teeth. Sydney was getting angry, suspicious. "It's not a big deal. He doesn't think that money should be a problem. I'm 'investing'." He used air quotes around the words.

Henry's eyebrow continued to cock upwards through Sydney's explanation. He was silent for a long moment, watching as the teenage boy took another lap around the office—case closed—gently touching all the artifacts Henry had on display. So, his first attempt at getting the boy to reveal his suspicions didn't work, that didn't mean he was going to give up that easily. _There's going to be a way for him to slip up,_ Henry thought.

"Did your father tell you that I ran into him at the bar recently?" Henry said it so casually he surprised himself, despite the flash of anger and frustration that ripped through him.

Now Sydney stopped in his tracks. He kept his back towards Henry. Rigid with curiosity. Or was it growing fear? "You did?"

"Yes, we got to talking a little bit," Henry moved closer to Sydney, watching his every move. "Your father didn't say much, though he does seem to be a bit on the aggressive side," Henry continued. He clasped his hands behind his back. "Then again, some can get very…different while they're under the influence of alcohol I suppose."

Sydney snorted. "There's hardly a time where he's _not_ angry, I don't think I remember a time he's ever been nice." As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Sydney covered it up with a laugh. "His work keeps him so stressed. When he's on vacation it's like he's a completely different person." He dropped the magnifying glass onto the desk top, moving quickly towards the door. "So, are we going to get some lunch or—"

Henry reached out a hand and placed it firmly on Sydney's shoulder. Sydney's muscles tensed, but he didn't move. "Sydney, is everything all right at home?"

"Everything's fine," Sydney said quickly.

"Because if there's anything wrong, I want you to know that you can come talk to me."

"Nothing's wrong." Sydney shrugged him off, easily side-stepped Henry's grasp. "I just…my Dad's gonna be fuckin' pissed if he finds out that I skipped."

"I thought you said he wouldn't care?"

Sydney's eyes turned flinty and he looked up at Henry suspiciously. "You're smart, Dr. Morgan," he remarked. Henry didn't dare smile at the praise. There was no time for it. "I reckon a lot smarter than me." He titled his head, eyes flickering over the planes of Henry's face. "You know a lot, and with your job I bet you've seen a lot as well."

"I have," Dr. Morgan agreed.

"Then I hate to say it, but your hospitality sucks," Sydney commented. "Your bedside manner could use some work." He chuckled, rubbing the back of his hand beneath his nose and sniffed. "You're smart, but you're not that smart, mate. Not so smart to not know what you're getting into."

"Is that a warning?"

"No." Sydney looked him in the eye. "What would I have to warn you of?" He removed himself from Henry's grasp and, with long strides, moved to leave the office. Henry watched after him for a few long moments, debating what to do. Let Sydney go and he could follow him to get more evidence. Or…keep him and talk to him, get some questions answered.

His body made the decision for him. "Sydney!" Henry shouted before running after him. He stopped when he noticed Jo standing in the middle of the floor, holding onto Sydney's shoulders as he frantically tried to get out of her grasp. Dr. Morgan's colleagues stopped and stared at the spectacle in concern.

"Detective Martinez," Henry breathed. Even he could hear the relief in his voice. With a sigh, he placed his hands on his hips. "Lovely to see you, and to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was coming here to talk to you about Sydney," Jo explained, catching sight of Dr. Morgan. The teen's wild movements did nothing to knock her of course. "But I see that he paid you a little visit first," Jo said. She looked down at the teenage boy, still holding tightly onto him. "Now you, young man, why aren't you in school?" Sydney rolled his eyes. "You know it's against the law to skip school and something tells me if I call they won't have it on record of you being there today."

"Let go!" Sydney reached up and roughly shoved Jo off him.

She reacted quickly, grabbing onto his arms and forcing them behind his back, causing him to fall to his knees. "Assaulting an officer isn't something you want on your record, I'm sure of it," she warned. Sydney bent his head forward, letting out a loud sigh. He rested his forehead against his thighs.

 _Almost as if he were…giving up._ Henry thought, eyebrows furrowing together. He had just watched the boy try and fight off a police officer, tried to sprint out of the office when he had been backed into a lie, and now…

Henry's eyebrows furrowed together as he exchanged a glance with Lucas, who had watched the exchange in confusion. "Not even I would be dumb enough to assault an officer that's as good looking as she is," Lucas remarked. When all eyes turned towards him, he cleared his throat, scratching the side of his neck, turning away from Henry and Jo.

"Yes, well, I…" Jo trailed off as her eyes lowered. She let go of one hand and grabbed the back of Sydney's sweatshirt. Pulling the neck down, Jo spotted the beginning of a bruise resting at the top of his back. Raising her eyes to Henry, she silently conveyed the message _you were right_ to him before helping Sydney up to his feet.

The Australian boy continued to hold his head downwards towards the floor. "Who did this to you?" She asked him. Sydney continued to look at the ground. "Did your father do this to you?" There was a long moment of silence then Sydney, finally, lifted his head.

Sydney looked Jo in the eye, and gave an expression of such utter confusion that even Henry believed it. "What are you talking about? I got it from playing rugby."

* * *

 **A/N:** Well, I'm sorry this took so long to get put up. This is about the point that the last story ended, but as you can see here, it's still the beginning. There's plenty more coming and I'm glad you guys are still enjoying it. I'll update again as soon as I can. Also, I apologize for not responding to reviews, I do appreciate them, but I work so much I don't get a lot of time to respond. But I do appreciate all your messages.

 **Cheers,**

 **-Riley**


	7. Chapter 7

**.:7:.**

* * *

 _"How long has this been going on?"_

 _Sydney shrugged, staring at the table below his hands. Nervously, he tapped his fingers against the tabletop. When that noise got to be too much, he relegated to dropping his hands to his lap, bobbing his knees up and down._

 _Standing beside him, Jo exchanged a concerned glance with Detective Hanson. She let out a low breath and leaned towards Sydney, lowering her voice to a calm, maternal tone. As she spoke, Sydney glanced at her out the corner of his eye. "We can't help you if you don't tell us what we need to know."_

 _"It doesn't matter," Sydney mumbled; voice low and sullen. He kept his eyes lowered, long eyelashes fluttering. "No matter how many times he gets reported…nothing happens. He always talks his way out of the charges and the next thing I know, we're moving again." Sydney shook his head. "I don't know if you noticed, but my father isn't very friendly."_

 _"That's the understatement of the year, kid," Detective Hanson remarked, head bent over a pocketbook as he wrote down everything Sydney was saying._

 _Jo moved to grab Sydney's shoulder. A move she did much too quickly. Sydney flinched horribly and leaned away from the detective. Jo dropped her hand to her side, nodded. It wasn't the right move. She needed to move slower, made sure he knew he was safe. That the police were going to help him this time. "You mentioned to Henry having brothers and sisters and yet, when we asked your father, he only mentioned having one son."_

 _"Because,"—Sydney let out another sigh—"He fostered all of us after our parents passed. But when my brothers and sisters were old enough, he kicked them out. He kept me, because I'm the youngest. I haven't talked to them in a while."_

 _"Do they know where you are?" Detective Hanson asked._

 _"I don't know. I don't get to talk to them very long. Only when Robert's not around. He monitors my cell phone bill."_

 _"I see." Jo turned Sydney towards her. Sydney continued to eye her carefully, suspiciously. "Thank you for telling me. Now, I'm going to have to take you to the police station because you assaulted me, but do you have any idea of where we can get a hold of your father. Is he at work?"_

 _Again, Sydney shook his head. "No, he's at the apartment. He always takes the day off when he's bloody hungover." He snorted. "I don't know how he still has a job."_

 _Jo nodded and pulled out her walkie-talkie, relaying the message to Lieutenant Reece, her supervisor. She replaced the walkie-talkie on her belt and moved to put her hand on Sydney's shoulder once more. And, once more, he backed away from her. "We're not going to let anything else happen to you," Jo promised. "We're going to help you find your brothers and sisters and Robert…we're going to do our best to see that he gets some jail time."_

 _Sydney nodded._

 _Jo looked up towards Henry, who stood quietly in the corner of the interrogation room. "Good work, Henry," she said to him._

 _Henry nodded. It was one of the few times he hated being right. But it wasn't enough for him to keep from seeing things through to the end. Jo seemed to have the same thought for she allowed Henry to come with her as she traveled to Robert's and Sydney's apartment. The moment they arrived the stench of alcohol and vomit immediately hit them, causing them to recoil from the door. Jo turned her head away, bringing her hand up over her nose._

 _She glanced at the door and then took another step away, hoping to escape the smell. She was glad that despite all the drinking she did—not enough to get particularly drunk—she never ended up smelling like that. She had a good handle of her own liquor, enough to take the edge off the day and make her forget everything she ever wanted to._

 _Nor did she wake up completely hung-over, not like the man that was inside the apartment as the teenage boy had said. How many times had Sydney woken up to find the man covered in his own waste and reeking of alcohol, having to skip school or come late to school because he had to drag him to the shower and wash him off before getting him into bed? Parenting a parent?_

 _How many times had he managed to avoid the want to drown the man and run off to find his brothers and sisters by himself? Jo stood up once the odor passed. Brushing her hair from her face, she glanced over at Henry, who had recoiled as she did. Then again, he seems loyal to the man if not completely fearful of him. Lifting her gun, Jo nodded at Henry and the mysterious man reached out and knocked on the door, keeping his back pressed against the wall just in case something was to happen._

 _"NYPD!" Jo called, holding the gun steadily in her hands. "Robert Jackson, open the door!"_

 _There was a long moment of silence and then stumbling footsteps before a crashing sound and a grunt. Then silence once more. Jo steeled herself and called out once more. "We're coming in! Keep your hands where we can see them!" She turned her shoulder and rammed it into the door. The door popped open and she quickly slid inside, moving in front of Henry, keeping the gun at a steady level._

 _Checking the first room on the left, which she wasn't surprised to find was Sydney's—a way for the man to torture the boy, to have him as close to the outside world as he could, but not allowing him that escape—and found it was clear. After her quick sweep—noticing how barren it appeared—Jo pressed on. Turning the corner, Henry flung out his arm, catching Jo in the stomach, stopping her in her tracks._

 _Robert Jackson lay kneeling on the floor of the kitchen, one arm leaning against the seat of a wooden chair, the other straight out, holding a pistol trained on both Jo and Henry. His bloodshot eyes trained upon them, eyes a bit lifeless as he continued to watch them._

 _"What…are you doing in my house?" His words were slightly slurred. Judging by the beer bottles that sat by the recycling bin in the kitchen, he had a high tolerance of alcohol. He had to have been on a bender._

 _"I'm surprised his liver hasn't rotted," Sydney had remarked._

 _A sober Robert was dangerous, an intoxicated Robert was even more dangerous. "Robert, we have reason to believe that you've been hurting your child," Henry said to the man as calmly and rationally as he could. Anger flared through Henry. The state of the apartment, the living conditions that Sydney had been in, hearing the story of how he was ripped from him home and his brothers and sisters all because Robert wanted to exploit his smarts as well as musical ability…_

 _It made him sick._

 _"We have a warrant for your arrest," Jo hissed, continuing to take small steps towards the still swaying man. "We're going to handcuff you and take you down to the precinct to get everything straightened out."_

 _Robert slowly smiled. A crass smile in the serious state they were all in. "Is that what he told you?" He asked. "What's wrong with a bit of discipline?"_

 _"What's wrong," Henry shouted, making Jo turn her gaze to him, her gun still pointed at Robert. "Is that you're not giving him discipline, you're scaring him half to death! You're torturing him and beating him when he doesn't live up to your standards. That is not discipline and don't delude yourself into thinking it is!"_

 _Robert slowly rose to his feet, still holding the gun. "Is that what you think?"_

 _"Drop the gun, Robert," Jo said, keeping her gun pointed at his shoulder. They didn't want to kill him, just wanted to incapacitate him enough to show him that she meant business._

 _"You don't know a damn thing about me! Who the hell do you think you are?"_

 _"I said drop the gun!"_

 _"I'm his friend," Henry replied, hands clenching into fists._

 _He was aware he was putting himself in danger, not only of getting hurt, but risking Jo and Robert both finding out his secret. He didn't care. He didn't care about himself or what would be the fallout, he cared about the well-being of the fifteen-year-old boy that had gone through so much pain. It would take a long time for those fifteen years to be reversed and for the boy to know he wasn't as much of a failure as Robert had drilled into his head. Henry wouldn't allow him to be a punching bag anymore._

 _"I care about him and I can't stand the thought of you abusing him anymore."_

 _"It's not abuse, doc. It's tough love!"_

 _"And ripping him away from his brothers and sisters, the ones that really loved him, and taking him here was the best way to do that?"_

 _"Robert." Jo's voice took on a menacing growl. One that even made the hairs on the back of Henry's neck stand up straight. "I will ask you one more time to drop the gun. Now!"_

 _Robert let out a loud, hollow laugh. Harsh and empty. When he lowered his head once more his face was a mask of a lot of emotions that Henry couldn't quite place. "I gave that little runt everything he could need, so what if I started to give him a bit of discipline when he acted out?"_

 _"That's not the story we were told," Henry said._

 _"The kid's always been a liar."_

 _"The last thing that boy is, is a liar." Henry took a step forward. "He's open and honest and a bit arrogant, but he's not a liar. He only became a liar because you made him that way!"_

 _Something shifted over Robert's face. Robert's arms dropped to his side and he glared at the two before suddenly moving, bringing his arm back up. Jo reacted quickly and shot him in the shoulder. Robert stumbled back, face contorting in surprise and pain._

 _Then there was another gunshot._

 _Now Henry let out a gasp of surprise. Bringing his hands up to his chest, he recognized the feeling of the bullet being lodged into his chest. Glancing down, Henry saw the red rose of blood blooming across the front of his clothes and the pain set in. Grimacing, he glanced at Jo, whom he noticed had moved her lips as if she was calling his name, but he couldn't hear anything._

 _Things were moving at a slow blur._

 _He had to get out._

 _Henry turned and stumbled out of the apartment as quickly as he could, making sure not to press his hands against the walls to stop himself from falling. He couldn't risk leaving any hand prints, or any other evidence that would make things harder for him to explain how he had disappeared. Henry managed to make it as far as the hallway before collapsing on his back. He took the last few gasps of air before he felt his heart stop._

 _Then everything had gone dark and he was back, popping up like a cork in the east river, shivering and gasping for air._

 _He rolled his eyes, letting out a huff when he spotted the park filled with people milling around, some starting to move towards the water's edge as they noticed him. Then he noticed that a few were calling over to him, waving their hands, someone had a phone up to their ear._

 _He didn't expect it'd be long before he was back with the NYPD explaining, once again, that no, he did not have some sort of exhibitionist fetish, and no, it wasn't funny._

 _Once Henry had gotten clothed at the police station, he did his best to steer clear of Jo, knowing she was going to need some sort of explanation as to how and why he had disappeared as well as to why he wasn't injured. He could fake it; he had done it for ages, but she as bound to dig into his file and question why he hadn't been taken to the hospital or why he didn't have a wound in the middle of his chest._

 _Instead, he avoided her as he moved through the halls of the precinct, looking for the room that Sydney had been brought to earlier that morning. Finally, he found Detective Hanson leaving the room and walked up to him. "Pardon me, but I hope you'd give me the chance to speak with Sydney."_

 _"We've just told him that his father is in custody," Detective Hanson replied. He hesitated for a moment before reaching out and patting Henry on the shoulder. "Great job, doctor. The boy's not going to live in fear anymore."_

 _Henry nodded and waited for Detective Hanson to leave the vicinity before knocking on the door and heading into the interrogation room. Sydney flicked his hair out of his face, hands in front of his sweatshirt, and looked over at Henry curiously._

 _"So I heard that my Dad roughed you up a bit, yeah?" He remarked. His eyes roved over Henry's body, as if looking for something. Henry placed a hand to his chest, exactly where he'd been shot. Hopefully there weren't too many people that heard what'd happened to him. He needed to come up with a story as an explanation._

 _Henry grimaced. "Nothing I can't handle," he replied, taking a seat away from the table and sat down next to the young boy. "I used to box, you know."_

 _"I don't believe that for a second." Chuckling, Sydney shook his head. "You're too…gangly for it." He smiled a little. "No offense, mate."_

 _Henry laughed. "I can assure you that I am not too gangly as you put it. In fact, I'm quite light on my feet. I really enjoy it, though it's only something I've just taken up recently." He cleared his throat, leaning forward and rested his arms on his legs, hands dangling between his knees. "We have your father in custody and I can assure you that he's going to be in for a long time."_

 _Tilting his head to the side, Sydney's face twisted into an expression of utter disbelief._

 _"I know he's managed to get away with it before, but now this time." Henry continued. Sydney looked away. "And, we're going to do our best to get in contact with your brothers and sisters. I'll admit, he's done a great job of keeping you all separated, but we're going to find them."_

 _Sydney nodded again. They sat in silence for a long while before Sydney spoke up again. "Dr. Morgan, thank you."_

 _"You're very welcome, Sydney," Henry replied, sincerely. "We're going to help you the best we can."_

 _Sydney lifted his head and looked Henry up and down for a long moment. Taking in his body language and smile, he knew the older man was being sincere. "Henry, may I ask you something?"_

 _"Sure. Anything."_

 _Sydney's right eyebrow rose, a dimple appearing in his cheek. "Why are you wet?"_

 _Henry was stunned for a second before he burst out laughing._

The end. Credits roll. Music blared out the speakers while the story ended up all neatly wrapped up in a bow. Except, that wasn't how life worked. And that certainly wasn't how things would go if Sydney told the truth. He certainly wasn't that naïve. Not only was Robert too smart, too careful to let anything like that happen but Sydney wasn't dumb enough to say anything.

He was a bit surprised he'd managed to get by with saying he had a rugby injury. It wasn't exactly a lie, he reminded himself. He had been playing rugby during free time at school, and he _had_ gotten a few more bruises from his classmates and left a few as well. Thankfully, they were all able to be explained away, his alibi was air-tight. He expected Detective Martinez to visit his school to check with the nurse, to question teachers and the principal. And just as he thought, he was cleared of any suspicion. The faculty and staff hadn't said anything about Robert having a bad attitude or being intimidating.

As it was, Sydney made sure to clean himself up enough so that he didn't need to go to the nurse. Didn't bring any attention to himself other than his intelligence. How many times had he been blamed for the bad grades of the other students, all because there was never a grading curve? Enough that he didn't care much anymore. All he needed was for the school day to last; to keep him away from home.

Gathering his books as the school bell rang, Sydney hopped off his stool and shoved them into his backpack. His shoulders ached as they stretched, pulled from the weight of his backpack. And he thought having to stand in one spot for hours on end was painful.

Sydney swung himself out of his classroom and headed to his locker to get the rest of his belongings. He looked at his classmates as they immediately broke off into their groups to head home. Since arriving, he hadn't had many friends, kept to himself too much. He was just too different. Even when invited out to someone's house, he'd simply shake his head and say he couldn't.

"Why not?"

"My dad won't let me go. He says I have to do yardwork." Or housework. Or any other work Robert would inevitably have him do. It being the same excuse time and time again was starting to become obvious.

"Wow, your dad is strict."

"Yeah, I know."

And Sydney did know. Being strict was the least of his worries. When things got to be too bad, he wondered how much longer it'd be until he didn't wake up again. Until Robert got so fed up of having him around that he wanted to dispose of him. There was nothing that would stop him, if Sydney were being honest. He had to make do and stay away from the apartment as long as possible. Robert had said it himself, "If I never have to see you again, it'd be too soon."

May as well keep himself scarce.

Sydney left the school and started aimlessly down the sidewalk. As he went alone, he continued to glance over his shoulder. Who knew if Dr. Morgan was following him around this time. Waiting to get another chance to talk to him. To interrogate him as much as the police had done. How long did he sit in that same room, answering question after question until his father stormed in, demanding he be released?

"My son doesn't have to answer any of your questions," he snapped. "He's a minor and it's illegal for you to keep him here."

 _Of course he'd know that,_ Sydney thought sarcastically, but kept his mouth shut. The last thing he needed was to draw in Robert's ire any further than he already had by his mere presence. Even then, Sydney was impressed from how calmly Detective Martinez and Detective Hanson stood before him. Sydney'd seen the look on Robert's face enough, he was beyond pissed.

"We just needed to ask him a few questions—"

Robert cut off Detective Martinez. Sydney noticed, with a raised eyebrow, that she certainly didn't take it too well. The way her lips pursed and eyes narrowed were big enough clues. Then he noticed the way her fingers dug into her palms, the nails puncturing her skin. Her hands shook slightly. No. She was furious.

"Is he being arrested? Am _I_ being arrested for that matter?" Robert's voice turned eerily calm, a subtle shift in his face that only Sydney knew. He knew there was nothing to keep either of them there. He hadn't committed a crime. Hadn't done anything wrong. They were, legally, free and clear to leave. And _he_ was free and clear to raise a stink if they kept him.

Reluctantly, Detective Martinez parted her lips and said, "No. You're not being arrested."

"Then, as I said, it is illegal for you to hold my son and question him when he's not being detained, he's not being questioned for a crime, and all without a lawyer or a parent or guardian to be with him."

Sydney chewed his lower lip. Of course the only reason Robert knew all that was due to the many times he'd been reported, shortly before they moved again. Nevertheless, he knew enough of the law to know it was true. Robert got away with it again and Detective Martinez could do nothing about it. So much so that the smug smile never left Robert's face as they left the precinct that night.

And it was still on his face when he gave Sydney a thorough beating for allowing himself to get caught. For allowing himself to be stuck in that position. Sydney tried to defend himself; it was Dr. Morgan and Detective Martinez who had insisted they go in for questioning. That hadn't worked. He was only hit even harder than ever before.

But Robert was careful, nothing that could be easily seen, things that were easy to hide. And as Sydney continued to walk along the streets of New York, finding himself in Central Park, his muscles twitched and ached with the reminder of each hit. A punch to the spine, a stomp on the hip, thrown into a bookshelf. Every surface of the apartment had been damaged in some way from Robert's work.

Reaching his arms above his head, Sydney brought his fingers to rub the spot on the back of his neck. Detective Martinez had been right to be suspicious of it. It was hard to pretend it was anything but a cigarette burn. How he managed to get away with his lie, he'd never know.

"Yo, dude, you look like you've seen better days."

Sydney turned around and lifted his eyebrows, seeing Abe standing behind him, one foot on a skateboard, the other on the ground. Protective pads rested on his elbows and knees, a helmet sat askew on his head. Abe stomped the skateboard up into his hand and tucked it under his arm.

"What's the matter? You get stuck at the bottom of a football game?"

"Yeah," Sydney replied with a half-smile. "I was the ball. What are you doing here, Mr. Morgan?"

"Please, call me Abe." Abe waved his hand. "'Mr. Morgan' is my father." Sydney smiled. And I was just hanging out, trying to work out some new skateboard moves."

"You skate?"

"I don't carry this stuff around for kicks." Abe gestured with his board. "I'm a little shaky, but I can beat the pants off any of those snot nosed teens at the park."

"Am I one of those snot-nosed teens, mate?"

" _You_ skate?"

"Sometimes."

"Awesome. You could show me a thing or two." Abe patted Sydney on the shoulder, making the teen strain every muscle in his body, trying not to react unfavorably. "So, what are you up to? You looked like you were lost in thought, wandering around."

Sydney shrugged. "I guess I was just…wandering around."

"Not in a rush to get home, huh?" Abe's words immediately had Sydney on edge. But the older man continued with the friendly conversation. "I know the feeling. Henry says he likes to work at the store but then spends all his time in his office. I mean, those cadavers don't even talk, at least I'm good company." He laughed to himself. "Hey, are you doing anything right now?"

"No," Sydney replied. It was the first honest thing he'd said within the last couple of days.

"You want to help me out in the shop? You seem like you've got a pretty good eye for antiques and with Henry busy at the office I could do with some extra help." Abe chuckled, gesturing with his skateboard. "Don't let the board fool you, but this old man only has a few tricks up his sleeve."

Sydney laughed. Abe certainly wasn't any older man that he knew. Not even his own grandparents were so cool. "Sure, that sounds ace."

"Ace," Abe repeated. "That's a new one."

"It means cool, mate."

"Well, then, I guess we've got enough time for you to give me a full rundown on your new, hip slang." The two fell in step with each other, heading towards the shop. "I've fallen one too many times today and I'm sure if I take one more spill I'll never get back up."

"You got it, mate," Sydney agreed.

An antique shop was a weird place to hang out, but at least it'd keep him away from Robert even longer.

He could only ask for small favors.

* * *

 **A/N:** Don't worry, we're going to get into Henry's reincarnation and Adam's being after him as the story goes on. I just wanted to get through the rest of what was the first story I'd written. So the pacing will pick up and there will be more action as it goes on.

Thanks guys.

 **Cheers,**

 **-Riles**


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